Better than Perfect
by Margaret Rose
Summary: Ten years after the end of Book V, Mia struggles to be the princess the Genovians want, and Michael tries to avoid running into his ex-girlfriend, her family, and the Genovian national guard.
1. Ten Years Later

Better Than Perfect   
  
By Margaret Rose  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on the Princess Diaries series, so all the major characters are Meg Cabot's. Genovia is all hers, too, though I want to visit and see the parking meters some day.  
  
Chapter 1 – Ten Years Later  
  
The best thing about being rich and famous was that Mikey M didn't have to plan his own tours. His band was finishing up its second world tour, and all he had to do was sit in the back of the tour bus and wait until they arrived at wherever it was they were going next. He didn't even know what country they were in anymore.  
  
"Jen, what country are we in?" he asked.  
  
His publicist looked out the window and said, "I don't know, still France I guess. Do you want me to ask the driver?"  
  
Jen's assistant was already starting to get up to ask, but Mikey shook his head and said, "No, that's OK. It doesn't matter."  
  
Another great thing about being famous was having everyone around ready to do whatever he wanted, no matter how stupid it was. If he wanted, someone would find get the exact latitude and longitude of their current location. He never had to order his own drinks or buy his own guitar strings. He had an entourage to follow him around and take care of practical details. He had a manager, a publicist, hair dressers, fashion consultants, a physical therapist, a personal chef, many bodyguards… He had many more people than he needed, but that was OK. He was a rock star. He was a really important guy.  
  
Piaget's Children was the biggest thing out there in the alternative music scene. They had released their seventh album earlier that year, "Untaming the Shrew." It had been met with great critical acclaim and won a few Grammys and, most importantly, sold really well all over the world. Their music videos were favorites on MTV and VH1. They were finishing up their two-month-long world tour, filling huge stadiums of fans wherever they went. And they were making loads and loads of money.   
  
Mikey M was a cultural icon. He showed up, impeccably dressed, arm-in-arm with his latest girlfriend at movie premiers, fashion shows, music festivals, trendy night clubs, everywhere people went to be seen. He was hailed as a musical genius and a fashion god. His opinion was always asked about every newcomer to the music world. Every time he appeared with a different hair style, people around the world noticed and ran to change their hair, too.   
  
Did he mention the money?  
  
Mikey M loved writing and performing his music, and he loved that people wanted to listen to him. He loved going on tour so much that he insisted on traveling with everyone else in the tour bus when, of course, he could have just flown in at the last minute and gone on stage without worrying about whether the clothes arrived wrinkled or not.  
  
The rest of the band were also in his tour bus, sitting on the leather furniture and sometimes getting drinks from the bar or asking the chef for some food. Just because they were on a bus didn't mean that they couldn't travel in luxury.  
  
Angus, the heavily-tattooed Scottish bass guitarist, was sleeping; Felix, the preppy drummer from New York, was describing his newest yacht to Ansel, the Texan keyboardist; and Jim, the talkative British electric violinist, was staring out the window and watching the rain. Mikey's eclectic band members had been carefully chosen over the years. Felix had been one of the founders of his very first band when he was still in high school, but other band members had come and gone until Mikey M had found people he liked and admired as musicians.   
  
Jim said to no one in particular, "I don't see why we're bothering with Monaco. It's just one big tourist trap, if you ask me. Like Genovia. They're useless so-called countries. You'd think France or Italy would have taken over them by now."  
  
"I'd finance the invading army," their manager Skip Hapwell said. "I had to talk to the Monaco people last night and all they did was whine, whine, whine about how some storm was flooding the stadium and how they weren't certain whether all the lighting pyrotechnics would be able to work."  
  
"Drop the special effects. I'm not getting electrocuted for some flashing lights," Mikey M said in his low, authoritative voice that everyone knew was a direct command. He had been opposed to the pyrotechnics from the beginning, saying that the music should be enough, but he had capitulated when everyone insisted that audiences expected more of a spectacle for their money these days.  
  
"I'll call ahead," Jen said. As usual, Mikey would get his own way. He was the big star, after all.   
  
The rain was coming down harder outside. The weather had been miserable during the few days they had been around the Mediterranean. The weathermen were saying that it was the worst spring on record, and the flooding was not only bad in Monaco. All the coastal areas were having to deal with rapidly rising water levels.   
  
Monaco had a covered stadium, so the weather wouldn't matter to Mikey M. People would venture out in any weather to hear them, and that was the point of all these tours. Play for audiences. Have a few interviews with the local press. Smile. Walk around in nice clothes. Pretend to be annoyed at the paparazzi getting them even more publicity. Sell more albums. Make more money.  
  
The bus stopped. Mikey M looked out the window and could only see fields, roads, and rain. No reason to stop. But other people would worry for him. That's what they were around for. Jen's assistant was already going up to ask the driver what was wrong. Skip went up, too. Mikey looked down at the German magazine he had been pretending to read for the last hour and tried not to look like he was even aware of the unexpected delay.   
  
He flipped to the next page, then abruptly closed the magazine. Did she always have to come up? "Die Genoviane Prinzess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo: Politikerin und Prinzess." Another article about the life and times of Mikey M's old girlfriend Mia, in time for her twenty-fifth birthday. May 1st, ten more days from now. Mikey wished he could forget that date and, well, everything else about the Genovian princess.  
  
Skip came back from the front of bus and announced, "The road's flooded. All the major roads are in bad shape. The driver says we're going to have to stop. No need breaking our boys' heads trying to get them to Monaco today on these roads. Tomorrow the weather is supposed to be better."  
  
"Says who? I don't want to waste an evening out with some French cows or whatever there is around here when we could be in Monaco," Ansel demanded.   
  
If Mikey M were in a better mood, he would have told Ansel to shut up. No matter how much the media made it look like the world revolved around Piaget's Children, they couldn't control the weather or road conditions. But Mikey didn't want to get into some stupid argument over nothing with people he usually liked. Just seeing a picture of Mia for a few seconds still could completely ruin his day. It was still the morning, but as far as Mikey was concerned, the day was shot to hell. Now he wouldn't be able to stop himself from thinking more about her, and that never was good.  
  
Monaco wasn't very far from Genovia, so the newspapers there would probably cover her birthday celebrations, too. So that meant more pictures of Mia. More hearing about Mia. More trying to pretend she didn't mean anything to him anymore. Maybe he could arrange to be off the continent by then. Maybe a nice side trip to Antarctica…   
  
"We're not in France," Skip said. The bus was turning off the main road and slowly going on some smaller, local road. Mikey saw there was some sort of coastal town in the distance.  
  
"We're not in Monaco either," Ansel grumbled.  
  
"We're in Genovia," Skip said.   
  
Mikey M looked up and, for a second, actually looked as terrified as that news made him feel. He was usually the epitome of cool, he took every unexpected setback with hardly a word of complaint, but, man, Genovia!  
  
Everyone else in the bus had been looking at Skip, so the only person who had seen the extent of Mikey's reaction was the manager himself. And, like everyone else in Piaget's Children's entourage, Skip knew that Mikey M was the one whose opinion mattered most in every detail, practical or artistic.  
  
So Skip ignored everyone else's questions about hotels or bars, and said, "What's wrong, Mikey?"  
  
The bus immediately became silent. Mikey M tried to be as casual as he could, and said, "I've had some problems in Genovia. Is it possible for us to stay somewhere else?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Skip asked. "We're already headed to the hotel. What's-her-face", the unofficial name of Jen's ever-helpful assistant, "is calling to make reservations. The driver says it's dangerous for us to be out here on the roads."  
  
"Then don't tell anyone I'm here," Mikey M said. He reluctantly added, "I've been banned from entering the country."  
  
"Banned?" Skip said.   
  
"Yes."   
  
Mikey M would not elaborate. He was not going to tell everyone in the bus about his dismal failure of a relationship with Princess Amelia of Genovia. Michael Moscovitz was the jerk who got in the tabloids years ago for getting dumped by Princess Amelia. Mikey M was the multi-millionaire musician who could have any woman he wanted.   
  
The drummer Felix was the only one there who knew the whole story. Felix had been there from the beginning, so he had seen how Mikey M had reinvented himself. But Felix was a true friend and wouldn't talk. And Mikey M certainly wasn't talking.  
  
Mia knew about Mikey M and Piaget's Children. He hadn't told her – they hadn't spoken a word for the past seven years – but she simply had to know. Somehow he couldn't imagine her not knowing what he was doing. He certainly knew everything she did, whether he wanted to or not.  
  
Besides, Mikey M still looked like Michael Moscovitz. He hadn't undergone any plastic surgery. He just changed his name. But the people he knew pre-Mikey-M would never expect the smart computer guy Michael Moscovitz to transform into a major rock star in only a few years, and the people who knew Mikey M wouldn't think of associating him with a spoiled rich kid who got into some trouble with the press when he was still in college. He knew that eventually someone would make the connection. People were already asking too many questions about his past. But he wasn't going to help anyone out by saying what his real name was, or where he grew up, or what his favorite color was, or anything else remotely personal.  
  
So don't let the Genovians know he was there at all, just in case they recognized nerdy Michael Moscovitz as an adult. And don't let his gossiping entourage know too much about his problem with Genovia.  
  
"How do you get banned from a spot on the map?" Jim asked. "Didn't bow to the king?"  
  
"Something like that," Mikey M said. He glared at Jim and then at everyone else. He didn't usually like to flaunt his power in the group, but he wasn't going to talk about this and everyone had to understand that. Skip went up front to tell Jen's assistant Mikey M's strange demand.   
  
Mikey M looked out the window and saw the bus approaching the town. It was going to be a very quiet day for him. He would hide in his hotel suite until the bus left for Monaco the next day. No one would have to know that he was ever there.   
  
*****  
  
Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo hated the rain. It made her hair frizzy, and it flooded her country. There was little she could do to prevent either from happening.  
  
Her father Prince Phillipe was still the leader of Genovia, so he was the one who was pacing the hallways of the palace ordering important people around to deal with their little country's big natural disaster. The boats had been removed from the harbor to safer locations. The roads were being closed. Old tapestries and artwork were being removed from the palace's basement. The fire department was on call. Emergency shelters had been set up for people whose homes were being swept away.   
  
But somewhere some old man was trapped in his flooding basement, unable to reach a phone to call for help. Cats were drowning in the alleys. Squirrels were being displaced from their natural habitats. What if someone tried to drive in spite of all the travel adversaries, and got swept away out into the Mediterranean Sea?   
  
"Dad, can I do anything?" Mia asked.  
  
"Stay out of trouble," he said, then turned to talk to Genovia's fire chief.   
  
Mia was the princess of Genovia, not a child! One day she would have to lead the country through floods. If her grandmother were the one in control, she'd drag Mia around and call it another "lesson". But her father was different. Men always wanted to do everything themselves, whether it was fixing a car or running a national disaster relief effort.   
  
"I know how to swim," she said.   
  
She could save the drowning cats herself. She could fly around in a helicopter and look for the signs of a poor animal in trouble. They couldn't listen to the weather warnings on the radio like people. Someone had to help them!  
  
"Don't you have some … meeting or something?" Prince Phillipe asked.  
  
It was just her luck that she did have a meeting, but her birthday preparations were much less important than Genovia's problems. Who would care about her birthday if her country was underwater by then? But her father wanted her out of his way, so she begrudgingly complied, and went down to her offices in the palace.  
  
She was nearly twenty-five years old, and she was still living and working at home. She had organized the palace's renovations two years ago to improve the palace's plumbing and heating, and she had also overseen the installation of a wireless network in the palace so she could be online everywhere she went. But she was still living in a seventeenth century historical landmark, with all that a seventeenth century monarch could ask for but still lacking in some twenty-first century comforts. No one would ever let her repaint her room or get a more comfortable bed. The place felt like a tomb.  
  
She had done more than just palace renovations in the last few years. Her grandmother was in her 80s now and finally showing signs of slowing down in her old age. Her father was always busy running the country, so that meant that Mia had had to take over acting as hostess when foreign dignitaries visited. She drank tea with the wife, then often discussed political matters with the husband (or vice-versa for the female leaders). She wore nice clothes and gave interviews with magazines from around the world, as was expected from the young and pretty princess.   
  
But she always wanted to do more. She wanted to take a more active role in Genovian politics and really do some good for her people. She was going to become the Crown Princess one day, and there was still a lot more she wanted to learn.  
  
As long as her father was alive, she was still expected to take his orders. He wanted her to stay out of Parliament and out of his way. So she'd go to her meeting this morning and talk about her birthday party. But as soon as the weather made it safe, she was going to go with her father to survey the damage around Genovia, whether he liked it or not.  
  
Her lady-in-waiting, cousin Francine, and her would-be-lady-in-waiting-if-he-weren't-male, Ted, were waiting for her in her office. The two of them were responsible for coordinating Mia's very busy days, sorting out who she was supposed to eat lunch with, where she was supposed to be at any particular time, and what she should know before she went there. They were also in their mid-twenties, so they were also Mia's only true friends in the palace.   
  
"Sorry I'm late," Mia said. "It's just that the country's flooded and Dad won't let me do anything."  
  
"The rains are supposed to stop overnight," Francine said. "Then everything will be better."   
  
Francine was the most reasonable and proper of the trio. She was from an old Genovian family and was the duchess of something-or-another, but she always seemed happy with her important position at the palace working with Mia. She was a pretty, petite blonde, and now always appeared at Mia's side at important state functions, ready to step in whenever Mia messed up. She had perfect posture, spoke all the modern languages fluently, always knew which fork to use, never addressed anyone with the incorrect title, and was generally everything a princess ought to be, except the direct heir to the throne.   
  
Ted was an American and didn't care about fish versus salad forks. He was more practical and less fussy than Francine, and had a great time showing off how little he cared about annoying his co-worker. He was excellent at getting results, so the rest of the palace staff excused his lapses in proper behavior and his horribly accented French. Mia was a huge fan of Ted ever since he got the dinner room staff to always put out ketchup for meals, no matter what they were serving. A true American companion!  
  
But meanwhile her country could be sinking, like the Netherlands. They would have to build dykes and start wearing wooden shoes.   
  
"Weathermen are always wrong," Mia said. "So what can I do?"  
  
"Not drown," Ted said. "Your dad will ask for help if he needs it but, really, this isn't as bad as you think. Everything will be cleaned up and back to normal well in time for your birthday."  
  
"I don't care about my birthday!"  
  
"Well, I do, because we're giving you one heck of a birthday party," Ted said. "Lucille left this with us."   
  
He threw down on the table in front of Mia a folder with the words "PRINCESS BIRTHDAY PARTY" in large letters on the cover. The long-awaited specific details! But Mia would think of the drowning kittens. She was not so shallow that she would immediately open the folder and…  
  
"Ooh, Tina's coming?" Mia asked. "And Shameeka and Ling Su? Wow, someone really did his research."  
  
The guest list included all the proper Genovian ministers and important ambassadors, various people who were related to her and were important enough to be recognized as cousins, and, sure enough, there were her real friends. Or at least they used to be her real friends. She hadn't seen most of them in ages. It's hard to stay in touch when you're busy ruling a country, or busy trying to help rule it if anyone trusted her enough to take her offers of help seriously.  
  
"Did Lilly Moscovitz refuse?" Mia asked.   
  
If she was going to see Tina, Shameeka, Ling Su, and Boris, it would look weird if she didn't have Lilly there, too. They had fallen out of touch thanks to the Michael crisis, but Lilly used to be her very best friend in the world.  
  
"Old best friend Lilly? I hear Lucille couldn't find anyone who knew what happened to her," Ted said. "Not even her parents would say. It sounds like she doesn't want to be found."  
  
It had really sucked to have to give up her best friend for the sake of her country, but it sucked even more that her old best friend was still too mad to even politely refuse to go to the party. Of course Mia didn't even ask about Michael Moscovitz, wherever he was now. There's no way he would be invited.  
  
After Mia had flipped through the list, Francine took it. "Hmm, we need more young people," she said. "There's only those New York people who are Mia's age. A guest list like that isn't going to help things."  
  
"Help what?" Mia asked. "The flood?"  
  
Ted and Francine exchanged worried looks. They were keeping something away from Mia. She hated it when people tried to insulate her from some bad news. There was something wrong and her employees – no, her friends – weren't going to tell her.   
  
"Tell me," Mia said. She tried to give her best imitation of her grandmother's glare.   
  
It must have been close enough to the real thing, because Francine sighed and said, "You shouldn't worry about this, but it's just some image problems."  
  
She had image problems?   
  
What had she been doing since she moved to Genovia three years ago other than working on improving and refining her public persona? She let them take away her combat boots and make her look like a young Nancy Reagan. She submitted to fittings for designer gowns under her old grandmother's supervision. She let people take care of who she saw and how she behaved in public. She never strayed from the speeches she was given. She did everything they told her to do, and there were problems?  
  
She tried to be very royal and show great control over her emotions. "What do my loyal Genovians want now?" Mia asked, very calmly and very serenely. "My hair is too long? I shouldn't be wearing lipstick? They didn't like the interview in Der Spiegel?"  
  
She gave up everything for this country, and there were image problems! She gave up Lilly and Michael. She gave up Michael! And there were image problems. But she would not get mad, she would stay calm, she would not get mad, she was at peace with herself, she would not get mad...  
  
"No, not quite," Francine said. "It's just that… well… they say…"   
  
Mia turned to Ted. He always told her the truth, even if Francine was trying to be very delicate about it. "You're too boring," he said.   
  
"I'm too boring? What does that mean?" Mia said, not very serenely at all. "I've been doing everything you tell me to do! I thought you all said the people wanted a boring princess." She was raising her voice higher than was proper, but she didn't care. Maybe that would make her more interesting!  
  
"They also say you come off a bit… aloof," Francine said.  
  
"Of course I'm aloof. I'm too boring to get to know," Mia said.   
  
All this time she was afraid of doing the wrong thing and getting people mad at her, and now because she was only doing the right things people weren't happy with her. It was certainly one problem she hadn't even thought of worrying about. And, based on Francine and Ted's grave looks, it was actually a serious problem. Mia would never be the princess the Genovians wanted.  
  
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked. "Have a big dinner party for all 50,000 people in my country and make charming jokes so they'll like me? Or do I need to get a tattoo and maybe pierce something?"   
  
"It's not your problem. We shouldn't have said anything. We're working on it. So if we could get a younger crowd at your party…" Francine looked down at the list again.  
  
Mia didn't have young friends. All those middle-aged and elderly ministers and ambassadors already on the list were the people she saw every day. They really were the people she knew best. She was never introduced to their kids or to anyone else her age. When she was in college in France, she was so often in Genovia that she hadn't make any close friends there. So it was all their fault! Not only Francine and Ted, but her dad, Grandmère...  
  
Mia stood up and said, "I'm going to talk to someone who thinks I'm not aloof and boring enough. I'm going to visit Grandmère."  
  
And she ran out of the room in a very un-princess-like manner, determined not to let her friends see her cry. No one liked her, not even her people. Genovia would be underwater soon, anyway, and no one would even let her go out and rescue cats.  
  
Sometimes Mia really hated being a princess. 


	2. A Rainy Day

Chapter 2 – A Rainy Day in Genovia  
  
Prince Phillipe was busy coordinating relief plans with neighboring parts of France, but that didn't mean that the Genovian Royal Opera company's director would excuse Mia from her visit. The opera house happened to be about 100 yards away from the palace, so Mia couldn't use the flooded coastal highways as an excuse to stay home. By mid-afternoon the rain was not coming down as hard as before, and the short trip between the palace and the opera house was deemed safe. Mia went with Francine and Grandmère.   
  
Clarisse Renaldo's precise age was a mystery thanks to her extensive plastic surgery and years of lying about when she was born, but not even she could deny that she was very, very old. She grudgingly allowed her family to arrange for doctors to visit her regularly, and Mia always made certain her grandmother took all her pills as directed every day. Grandmère now walked slowly with a cane and tired more easily than she used to, but she still insisted on an active life.  
  
And this strange, little old woman was still more popular than Mia was in Genovia. Everyone loved the crazy, old dowager princess. No one could ever call her boring. There was no way Mia was ever going to get black eyeliner tattooed on her eyelids, so there had better be an easier way to get Genovians to like her as much as they loved Grandmère.  
  
Now all the official state visits were Mia's visits, and Mia could decide when it was safe enough and close enough for her grandmother to accompany her. Considering the weather, she had tried to get Grandmère to stay indoors, but the old woman had said that it was just because of the weather she wanted to get out of the palace and go somewhere new.  
  
"Besides, I want to have a word with that man about the opera. Did you hear about the last production of 'Parsifal'? You were there on opening night, of course you saw it. With the naked women?"  
  
Mia rolled her eyes and said, "Grandmère, it was in the name of art."  
  
"Since when did you become an opera fan? You still complain if the wrong people die at the end, and you listen to that awful rock music of yours. I'm surprised you haven't gotten some long-haired, drug-addled rock band to come to Genovia."  
  
There wasn't a decent venue for a rock concert in Genovia, or maybe she would have. Genovia had an excellent symphony orchestra, opera company, and ballet company, but when she was Crown Princess she would see more forms of music embraced. Jazz and rock would definitely be better represented. She would also live to see a production of the musical "Beauty and the Beast" performed in her country. Genovian children had no idea what they were missing.  
  
Luckily their car was outside waiting for them, so their musical discussion changed to an argument over the gardens between the palace and the opera house. Grandmère said that roses were 'common', but Mia thought they were lovely. Then Grandmère reminded her that the Dutch ambassador had given them some prized tulip bulbs last week, and Mia had to confess that she lost them before she could give them to the head gardener. And then Grandmère started to lecture Mia about how she may have insulted the ambassador and perhaps damaged relations between the Netherlands and Genovia. Mia pointed out that the ambassador liked their roses. Thankfully they were soon at their destination.   
  
The opera director was there at the door to meet them, and of course he immediately dedicated all his attention to the vastly popular Princess Clarisse, while boring Princess Mia stepped in a puddle and got her shoes completely soaked. Francine was helping Grandmère walk up the steps, so Mia thought it would be safe to take off her shoes and run up behind them. Her panty-hose got wet, but at least she didn't slip on the wet marble stairs. While the others were fusing over their rain coats, Mia slipped back on her damp shoes. As soon as they sat down somewhere she'd take them off again.  
  
Surprisingly enough, they were not the only ones in the lobby of the opera house. That evening's performance had been canceled due to the floods, but the box office was still open and the building was not completely locked up to keep away tourists. A trio of cute young men were standing there looking very lost.  
  
"Where's Mikey M when you need him?" the red-haired one with tattoos said, with a heavy Scottish accent.   
  
"I can speak French just as well as he does," the tallest of the group said. Based on his accent, he was British, probably from London. Grandmère could distinguish which city a person was from and which income bracket they belonged to based solely on accents, so Mia had to endure lectures on the subtle differences.  
  
"Your French got us lost to begin with," the Scotsman said. "You said this was the way to the music store. Do you see any CDs here, eh?"  
  
Mia did her very best not to laugh out loud, but she did smirk in perhaps not a perfectly princess-like manner. Francine, Grandmère, and the opera director seemed completely oblivious to the humor in the situation for the cute guys in the other part of the lobby.   
  
Grandmère frowned at the group of men and said, "We should be happy someone is here, with this weather."  
  
That didn't sound like she was going to help them out and tell them they were in the completely wrong part of town for shopping. Parts of the palace and the outer buildings were now opened as museums, and in addition to the opera house, the symphony hall and playhouse were nearby. Tourists came to take pictures of the old architecture and see the great cultural accomplishments of Genovia. Shopping was by the casinos, restaurants, and the hotels by the pier.  
  
"I'll help them," Mia said, more to Francine since the opera director and Grandmère were already walking off, followed by François, Mia's bodyguard. Didn't the others care that tourists were going to get the wrong idea of Genovia? It is a tiny, nice, comfortable, homey place. Mia would see that they felt welcomed, if no one else would.  
  
"Excuse me, but you look lost," she said in English.   
  
Grandmère told her that she should acquire a more sophisticated British accent, but Mia had pointed out that people already knew she grew up in New York City, so she'd look completely fake if she tried to sound like Prince William.  
  
The men didn't expect anyone, much less an American, to come to their aid. Up close, they were even cuter, though they looked even more out of place. The cantankerous Scotsman was much shorter than Mia, and had, in addition to his tattoos, more holes in his ears and nose than Mia would have thought would be very comfortable. Would all those studs need to be removed before going through a metal detector? The quiet one was dressed much more conservatively, khakis and a button-down shirt. He smiled pleasantly when Mia walked up to them, so Mia decided she liked him the most. The third, the tall Brit, wore designer jeans and an old-looking, half-ripped Velvet Underground shirt. But for some reason all three looked familiar… especially the preppy one…   
  
"Hi Mia," the preppy one said. He was an American, too. A familiar voice, New England accent, maybe someone she knew before she moved to Genovia… No… It couldn't be…  
  
"Felix?" she finally asked.  
  
He smiled again and nodded.   
  
"Oh my god," she said, "you're so …" Not scary-looking. Felix had been the drummer in Michael's band, Skinner Box, when they were still in high school. But back then he had a goatee and had managed to look intimidating even in the school uniform. Now he was shockingly clean-cut.   
  
"Are you going to introduce us?" the Brit asked.  
  
Mia looked back and saw that she had been left behind by her grandmother and the others. So be it. No one needed her when her grandmother was there. They would only notice Mia was gone when they had a cup left over when Francine poured out the tea or when they wanted someone to finish the last crumpet.  
  
Now that she was unobserved by those who knew the rules of deportment and royal protocol better, Mia could go into princess-mode without worrying about criticism. She stood with perfect posture and tried to ignore her damp shoes. Felix was one of Michael Moscovitz's old friends, and he was going to see how very regal she was. Because what if he still knew where Michael was… No, because that was what she was expected to do.  
  
"Yes, please introduce us," Mia said.   
  
"Mia, meet my friends Jim and Angus. Guys, meet Princess Amelia Something Something Thermopolis Something of Genovia, an old friend from school," Felix said.   
  
He never treated her any differently from anyone else when they were in high school, and now he used her title as more of a joke. Most visitors made a big deal out of her royalness, but Felix was different. He had known her, or at least known of her, before she was ever a princess.   
  
"Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo," Mia corrected. "Or just Mia." She offered her hand to Felix's friends and said, "I'm honored to make your acquaintance."  
  
Jim, the Brit, showed an unexpected degree of gentility by bowing and kissing the air above her hand. "Enchanted, your Royal Highness," he said.  
  
Angus just nodded and said, "Hey."  
  
"So why are you guys here? Genovia's a lot nicer when you can actually walk outside and not drown," she said.   
  
Francine or Grandmère would probably criticize her for being too informal and friendly with men she hardly knew, but they weren't there. Mia never could have real conversations with people outside the palace anymore. She was always so nervous about saying something wrong in public that she usually didn't say much at all. But Felix was sort of a friend, and no one else was listening.  
  
"The roads are closed, so our band's bus had to stop here," Felix said.   
  
"Your band?"  
  
"Yeah," Felix said, "we're on our way to Monaco. Maybe you've heard of us."   
  
"Of course she's heard of us," Jim said. "We're the better half of Piaget's Children, and you can tell Mikey M that."  
  
Woah. Piaget's Children? In Genovia? Her Genovia? Felix was in Piaget's Children? All these cute guys were in Piaget's Children and were in Genovia? Mikey M was in Genovia?  
  
"Woah."  
  
Mia loved Piaget's Children! Their music! Their style! And Mikey M was really, really hot.  
  
Mikey M actually reminded her of Michael Moscovitz. It was probably because of the name. And he became really famous soon after Mia stopped being able to see Michael, so naturally they got associated together in her mind. But Mia wasn't an idiot. She knew that Mikey M was way hotter than Michael Moscovitz ever was. He had more style. Mikey M was what Michael Moscovitz could have been, had he not done what everyone told him to do. Michael had wanted a band, but he gave up that dream when Grandmère made her opinion known on the matter. A potential royal consort did not play in a band. Royal consorts learned how to dance well, which Michael did, and learned to speak French, which Michael did, and went to good schools, which Michael did, and always did and said the right thing.   
  
So had Michael Moscovitz told Mia and Grandmère to stop trying to control his life, he could maybe have become as cool as Mikey M. At least he could have worn the same sort of clothes and looked totally hot in them. But Michael Moscovitz was off being boring and mentally-unstable somewhere, and Mikey M was in Genovia! Her Genovia!   
  
"So you're a fan, right?" Angus asked.  
  
"Of course!" Mia said. She was fully out of princess-mode now, and was instead just another excited, American fan. "Wow, you guys have to come to dinner or something. Nothing's open because of the flood. Dad's too busy talking to France, so it's just me tonight. You could be official state guests. Piaget's Children at my palace!"  
  
She took a deep breath and said, more sedately, "Of course, I mean, if you have no other engagements, I'd be honored if you and your other friends staying in Genovia dined with me."  
  
Jim immediately stepped forward and said, "On behalf of Piaget's Children, I thank you, your Royal Highness. Of course we accept."   
  
Mia clapped her hands together in a very un-princess-like manner and said, "How cool! Are all you here? And do you have like a couple of managers I should invite?"  
  
"Only one manager," Felix said. "Jen will probably want to come, too. She's our publicist. Then there's us."  
  
"No Mikey M," Angus added.  
  
Mia tried not to show how disappointed that news made her, and she failed miserably since Jim and Angus laughed.   
  
"Everyone always wants to meet Mikey M," Angus said.  
  
Well, if they were going to laugh at her already, at least Mia could ask the one question that every reporter asked the band in interviews. "Do you really always call him Mikey M?" she asked. "Not just … Mike? Or … Mikey?"  
  
"Never," Angus said gruffly.  
  
"It's Mikey M," Felix said. "Always has been. He acknowledges 'Mikey' sometimes."  
  
"You call Mikey M what he wants to be called," Jim said. He sounded quite serious about the matter.   
  
That sort of automatic loyalty impressed the princess of Genovia. Mikey M had a great voice, wrote really good music, and was really good-looking, but, in addition to all that, he also had great deal of personal charisma. Reporters couldn't praise him enough. Women swooned over him. All three men there would obviously do anything for him, no matter how much they joked.  
  
Mia lacked that sort of charisma. She couldn't even get her cousin, her grandmother, and her bodyguard to wait for her before they went to have tea with opera directors. Speaking of whom, she would probably be yelled at more if she didn't get back to them soon.  
  
"If you want to find a music store, they're closer to the water," Mia said. "They're probably all closed because of the floods, though. But I should get back to Grandmère and the others. I'll see you tonight. The palace is hard to miss. We dine at seven."  
  
She would make certain they got a dinner to remember, even if Mikey M wasn't there. Her guests would have such a good time that they would want to return. Maybe they would stop for a concert on their third world tour. Or maybe they could play for her birthday.  
  
Yes, maybe they could play for her birthday…  
  
Mia took off her shoes again once she was out of the lobby, and she went up to the opera director's office. Didn't François worry about Euro-trash terrorists hiding in the opera house, waiting to kidnap her? Then again, Genovians would be more upset if anything happened to good old Princess Clarisse than if their boring Princess Amelia got kidnapped and ransomed, so it made sense that François went with the others. Maybe being kidnapped would even increase Mia's popularity and make her look more interesting.   
  
Imagine how interesting she would be once everyone found out that she was dining with rock stars and was getting them to play at her birthday celebrations. The more she thought about the idea, the more she liked it. Mia stopped in the hallway outside the opera director's office and called Ted at the palace on her cell phone.  
  
"We have guests for dinner tonight," she told him. "Piaget's Children."  
  
"What? The band? Are you crazy? Why would they be here?"  
  
"They're stranded in Genovia because of the floods. I know the drummer from high school, and they're coming to dinner. And they're going to play at my birthday party. How perfect is that?"  
  
"Wait, wait, they're playing for your birthday?"  
  
"I haven't asked them yet, but they've got to agree to. It'd make me look interesting in front of Genovia. And it would be really, really cool. Don't you think? So you have to help me pull this off."  
  
"Don't worry, Mia. We'll have them begging to come back. If the soufflé doesn't win them over, I often find that people will agree to anything if you get them drunk enough. But don't tell Francine that part of the plan. So how many more for dinner?"  
  
"Six. Them, their manager, and their publicist. Oh, and no Mikey M."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"They didn't say."  
  
*******  
  
As far as Mikey M could tell, Genovia was the most boring place on the planet. He learned French well during his early years in college, and at the time he had had plenty of input from a certain young lady on how to speak with the proper Genovian accent. So now he could perfectly understand everyone on the television (floods, floods, floods, floods, Prince Phillipe, floods, floods, floods, Princess Amelia, floods, floods…). He could read the newspapers (Prince Phillipe, olive oil, decrease in tourism, floods, birthday celebrations…). And that was all there was to do while sitting in Felix's hotel suite.  
  
Felix had appeared earlier to inform him that everyone else was going to go to the palace to have dinner with the princess. Others were around, so Felix imparted this news as if it didn't at all have any personal significance to Mikey M. Felix was a good liar when needed.   
  
Besides, why should it matter that his friends were all allowed to eat a big dinner at the Genovian palace when Mikey M would be arrested if he let himself be seen outside the hotel room? At least Mikey M got a larger percentage of Piaget's Children's profits. He was much more famous than the other guys. All their hit songs were written by him, not them. And he was starving and couldn't even call room service.  
  
Someone must have been reading his mind, because at that moment Jen's assistant came in. Maybe it wasn't a huge coincidence since she had been coming in and out of the room to check up on him at least once every half hour, but Mikey M was still happy to see her.  
  
He still had to mention, "The hotel staff is going to think something's wrong since you keep on checking Felix's empty room."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mikey M, but Jen told me to make certain you didn't want anything when they're all gone," she said. "Like dinner?"  
  
As if getting dinner sent to Felix's empty room wouldn't look at all unusual. Jen's assistant may be good at taking orders from Jen and everyone else, but she wasn't very good at hiding famous musicians in hotel rooms. But he did need some food or else he would start eating the flowers in the suite.  
  
"How about … a box of crackers," Mikey M said.   
  
The moment they got to Monaco he would get a real meal. He was hoping that the assistant would protest about how unreasonable it was for a twenty-eight year-old man to have only a box of crackers in place of lunch and dinner, but she accepted his request as a direct order. There was a downside for always getting his own way all the time.  
  
Ten minutes later she was back with a box of Saltine-like crackers. It was his own fault for not being able to think of something better that a Genovian convenience store would have. Mikey M tried to look pleased. But why couldn't she have deviated slightly from his order and picked up some cheese, at least? He couldn't be mad at her, though. She was merely doing her job, whatever her name was.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked.  
  
She actually looked surprised that anyone would think of asking her that. Everyone called her What's-her-face without a second thought. But she was doing her best to look after him, so at least Mikey M would learn her name.  
  
She said, "Kristy Showalter."  
  
"Kristy," Mikey M repeated, but he was really thinking about the last name. Surely there were many Showalters in the world than just Mia's-ex-pseudo-boyfriend Kenny. Of course Mikey M couldn't actually ask Kristy about Kenny because Piaget's Children's lead singer shouldn't know who Kenny Showalter was. So Mikey M smiled and said, "Thanks for the crackers, Kristy. Don't let anyone else come in here tonight, other than Felix."  
  
"OK," she said. She was now smiling way too much because Mikey M knew her name – adoring fans were so easy to handle – and she quickly left the room, now to vigilantly obey his command. So that meant it was really going to be very, very, very boring for him tonight.  
  
He was rereading his German magazine for the third time, skipping the Mia article for a second time (he did read it once in a moment of weakness brought on by extreme boredom), when there was a discrete knock on the door. Was Kristy making certain he didn't want anything? Or maybe a maid wanting to make certain there were enough towels in the bathroom? Mikey M wouldn't take any chances. He turned off the TV and crouched down behind the couch so he wouldn't be visible from the door.   
  
There was a louder knock. And then there was the sound of someone unlocking the door with a key. The only person with a key was Felix, and he wouldn't knock. So it had to be housekeeping. Mikey M looked around for other good places to hide just in case the maids did more than just peek in and put more little bars of fragrant soap in the bathroom.  
  
But instead of a little maid, a very large man came in. Six foot seven, 300 pounds, dark sunglasses, black suit, long blond hair pulled back in a pony-tail, the noticeable bulge on his side – it was Lars! He must still be working for security for Genovia.  
  
Lars stepped in and closed and locked the door behind him. Then he looked around and said, "OK, Michael, you can stop hiding. I know you're here."  
  
Mikey M was not in the mood for trying to play hide and seek with a well-armed, well-trained bodyguard. Besides, he always liked Lars.   
  
Lars knew from the first time they met that Michael was crazy about Mia. That was years ago, when Michael still thought he was going to have to wait until Mia was in college before she would consider going out with him. When Mia went with Josh Richter to the Cultural Diversity Dance, Lars had called from the restaurant Josh had taken her, and told Michael to show up at the dance. Michael had, and Lars was right. Mia did want him there. Then when Mia was going out with Kenny, Lars had mentioned to Michael that Mia had a new interest in greeting cards. Lilly had later more bluntly delivered the hint that Mia was writing Michael cute little anonymous poems, but Lars told him first. Mia's bodyguard, and therefore constant companion, was always on Michael's side.   
  
Even when things went really, really wrong with Mia, Lars never seemed to hate him. Of course, if Lars had decided to hate him as much as everyone else did, Mikey M probably wouldn't be alive today. The guns weren't around for show, and Lars took his responsibility of looking after Princess Amelia very seriously.  
  
So Mikey M reluctantly stood up and said, "Hi Lars."  
  
Lars shook his head, probably amused at the sight of a tall, well-dressed man trying to hide behind a sofa, and sat down. He gestured for Mikey M to take a seat, too. At least Lars looked like he was there in peace. And he hadn't taken out his gun or tried to arrest Mikey M for entering Genovia yet.  
  
"I really haven't taken a step out of the room since we got here," Mikey M said. "I'm leaving in the morning. I'm not going to try to talk to anyone other than the people I'm here with. I'll be gone before you know it."  
  
Lars said, "That's why I didn't tell anyone you're here. Your friends said you all got stranded here because of the floods. They all knew you weren't allowed in Genovia, so they tried to cover for you. There's a girl out in the hallway that looked like she was going to have a heart-attack when she saw me coming in here. I'll apologize when I leave."  
  
"So who told you I was here?" Mikey M asked.  
  
"It came out during dinner. The drummer – your old friend Felix – said you were in France, the keyboardist said you were sick in Germany, the violinist said you had already flown ahead to Monaco, and your manager said no one knew where you were because you didn't tell anyone. Then everyone drank more and the keyboardist said you were in Russia, the bass guitarist said you were in Australia, and the publicist said you were hiding. I believed her."  
  
"My publicity people always lie," Mikey M said.   
  
For example, look at the way Jen always handled his many supposed romances. Maybe half the time Mike M really was taking the woman out. Another quarter of them were women he happened to be photographed with when they were at the same party. The rest of his torrid love affairs were the product of overly imaginative and/or partially blind gossip columnists. Every time Jen would always say 'No comment', but she would say it in such a way as to suggest that she could certainly say more if she were allowed to. It was all for the sake of his image, so Mikey M never complained. Jen would probably have said Mikey M was 'hiding' tonight with a raise of her eyebrows meant to mean that he was off with some famous super-model on a tropical island.  
  
Lars laughed and said, "Then what do you call this?"  
  
"Hiding," Mikey M conceded. "But no one else knows?"  
  
"No," Lars said. So that meant the princess didn't know, either, which was a very, very good thing. Mia would have no qualms about sending in the Genovian national guard to arrest him and throw him in the dungeon.  
  
He then asked, "Everyone at the palace knows all about me, right? This whole Mikey M thing?"  
  
Mikey M could imagine Mia's grandmother holding bonfires to burn all the copies of Piaget's Children's albums that made their way into Genovia. Mia's dad would have trained all the Genovian military to shoot to kill the moment they saw Mikey M's face. And Mia… At least he hoped that Mia didn't hate his music. She always used to like his songs when they were in high school, before Grandmère put an end to his musical aspirations. And she was the one who invited his friends to dinner at the palace.  
  
"No, they don't," Lars said. "But if Mia or Princess Clarisse or Prince Phillipe saw you, they'll recognize you in a minute."  
  
Mia didn't know? But she knew his music and she must have seen his picture. Everyone knew what Mikey M looked like. Lilly always said that Mia could be the biggest idiot in the world sometimes, and for the first time he really had to agree. But Mikey M would not show that this revelation disturbed him in the least. Lars wasn't here to help reunite him with his ex-girlfriend or to relive the good old days, before things between Michael and Mia went wrong.   
  
"So why are you here?" Mikey M asked. "To make certain I behave and leave quickly?"  
  
"And to see how you are," Lars said. "I'm still in charge of coordinating Mia's security, so I've been keeping track of you for the last seven years. You've been busy."  
  
Mikey M smiled and said, "Yeah. There's been some ups and downs, but it's all good. It's all great, actually."  
  
Which was a lie, but how could he actually tell anyone what was wrong when he didn't even know. He was proud of what he had accomplished over the years. He had done what he had set out to do: He had the artistic freedom to make the music he wanted, and he had made a lot of money in the process. But things weren't great. He was always trying to accomplish more, sell more albums, get more awards, make more money, and become an even bigger star.   
  
But that had nothing to do with being dumped and humiliated by the princess of Genovia seven years ago. He was over that. Mostly. He hoped.  
  
"In the beginning I thought your rock star act was an attempt to get back at Mia," Lars said. "I'm glad I was wrong."  
  
"Of course it's not that," Mikey M said quickly. "My musical career has nothing at all to do with Princess Amelia. She's completely out of my life. Not tonight, I guess, since it's because of her I'm stuck in here."  
  
That seemed to satisfy Lars. He got up and said, "People at the palace will probably be looking for me. You may want to turn down the lights in this room. People looking at the hotel from the outside would think that someone was in here, when we all know that your friend Felix is up at the palace. I'll see you around."  
  
Once Lars had left and locked the door behind him, Mikey M turned off the main lights and sat down next to a reading lamp and read the German article on Mia again. Lars hadn't said anything about her, and the article didn't say much more. He would have to wait until the others came back to hear what they thought of her.   
  
It was well after midnight when he heard voices out in the hallway. Felix came stumbling in, more than a few drinks beyond his limit. How typical; rock musicians getting smashed at a formal dinner at the royal palace. Prince Phillipe must have been thrilled. Grandmère would be furious. They had a big concert the next day, too. But Mikey M wasn't in the mood to lecture. He wanted to hear about the dinner.  
  
"Don't worry, Mikey, no one told the authorities where you were hiding," Felix said. He stretched out on the sofa and yawned. Mikey M didn't tell him that the authorities had already found him while everyone else was away.  
  
"So how was it?" Mikey M asked.   
  
"Good food. Mia was there. You remember Mia, right? Hell, of course you remember Mia. Well, she was there. And a really cute blonde. And some guy always doing stuff for Mia. He was an American. Maybe he was her boyfriend. They were always whispering. Nice guy. He practically interrogated poor Ansel about you. He's a big fan."  
  
Mikey M looked very closely at the lamp shade, just in case Felix was looking at him. Mia had an American boyfriend staying with her, doing 'stuff' for her and whispering with her. Somehow he guessed that this wasn't another secret prince. Mia had dumped Michael for not being suitable, and now, seven years later, she was with some other non-royal American, and no one cared.  
  
"So what did Ansel tell him about me?"  
  
"That you're a freaking genius, what the hell do you think? And that he didn't stand a chance with the ladies when you're around."  
  
"What did Mia say to that?"  
  
"Oh, she laughed. She laughed a lot. But she was always fun, back when you two were dating."  
  
"I hope you didn't mention that."  
  
"No, man, I was cool. I liked that Ted, though. I was going to invite him back here to talk some more but then I remembered you were hiding here."  
  
"Mia's Ted?"  
  
"Yeah, Mia's Ted. I want a Ted, too. No, I want a Francine. That was the blonde. You'd want a Francine, too, if you could get one."  
  
How much alcohol had they given Felix? Mikey M's friends were all hardened musicians and had had more than their fair share of wild parties and late nights. It would have taken a lot of alcohol to get Felix this drunk. Mikey M wouldn't have guessed that the Genovian royal family would be heavy drinkers. Mia always used to disapprove of excessive drinking.   
  
More importantly, Felix was too drunk to tell Mikey M anything interesting or insightful about what he had seen during the dinner. Mia had laughed, Mia had an American guy hanging around, and there was a blonde named Francine. Maybe in the morning Felix would have more to say.  
  
"Go to sleep," Mikey M said. He stood up and decided he would take the bed tonight. Felix seemed quite comfortable there on the sofa.  
  
"Talk to Skip in the morning. We've got to come back," Felix mumbled. He was already falling asleep.  
  
"Back? Here? I'll pass on that. I like the hotel room a whole lot, but I've seen better."  
  
"Mia says it's OK. She'll take care of getting you allowed into the country. Skip says we have to run it by you first, but it's going to be great." Felix's voice was becoming more faint as his words were making less sense.   
  
"What's going to be great?"  
  
"Our trip back here. To see Francine. And play for Mia's birthday."  
  
"What?"   
  
Felix was asleep and, besides, too drunk, but Mikey M couldn't let the matter wait until morning. Mia's birthday? How would she make it OK for him to come to Genovia if, as Lars said, she didn't even know who he really was and therefore didn't know why he was banned from entering the country?   
  
Mikey M did something he had sworn to himself and to other people many times that night that he would not do: He left the hotel room. Luckily no one else was out in the hallway, so he quickly and quietly went to find his manager. If what Felix said was right, Mikey M would get Skip to cancel at once, because there was no way Mikey M was going to get up on stage in front of Mia and her family and the international media and sing her Happy Birthday.  
  
----  
  
(Author's note: Wow, this chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I had anticipated. The plot moves much faster from here. They finally meet next chapter. Thanks for reading!) 


	3. Happy Bday, Mia!

Chapter 3 – Happy Birthday, Mia!  
  
"What do you think of our country?"  
  
Mikey M thought that Genovia was a second-rate version of Monaco, with fewer casinos, no Grand Prix, and a less glamorous royal family. He thought that the world would be a much better place had the plot of land that now called itself Genovia and the 50,000 people who called themselves Genovians were still a part of Italy. He envied the billions of people around the world who had never heard of Genovia, much less had the misfortune to have to visit.  
  
Mikey M was still waiting for Prince Phillipe to walk into the reception room, followed by the Genovian national guard, to send all the reporters away from the press conference and to arrest Mikey M for daring to enter Genovia at all. But there were only a few dozen reporters waiting to hear what he thought of the Genovian beaches.   
  
He said, "I only arrived about an hour ago, so all I've seen of Genovia is my dressing room. It's one of the palace's guest bedrooms. It's very nice. This room isn't bad either."  
  
The birthday celebrations were being held in the gardens behind the palace. A stage had been built for the Genovian royal orchestra to perform a piece specially commissioned for the princess's birthday. Piaget's Children would be out there on that massive stage, in front of hundreds of members of minor royal family, government officials, and Genovian and international VIPs, in an hour.   
  
"Have you met the princess yet?"  
  
Yes. She had been an incredibly cool kid when she was Mia Thermopolis. Unfortunately Mia Thermopolis turned into Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo. Mikey M had thought that she had completely ruined his life seven year ago, but he was wrong and he was here to gloat. She was a self-absorbed, immature, stuck-up little girl, and he was now too good for her. Today she was going to see that.  
  
"She hasn't been by. I imagine she has more important birthday guests to greet. The rest of the guys met her when they were in Genovia last week, and she's been calling me ever since to get me to come play for her. She's a fan."   
  
Just in case things got too messy, he made certain that everyone knew he was here at Princess Amelia's direct request. If Mikey M had gotten his way in the beginning, he would be back in the United States by now. He had gotten Skip to cancel the Genovia performance, but Mia's Ted and the royal party planner Camille kept on calling and offering more money. Skip and the guys wanted him to say yes. Then Mikey M started liking the idea, too.   
  
Mia had practically begged him to come, so she deserved the shock he was going to give her. When Prince Phillipe tries to arrest him – as he would no doubt try to do; Mr. Renaldo was always very protective of Mia – Mikey M would be able to say that he had been promised by the princess herself that he would not be arrested when he was there. He was going to piss off the entire Genovian royal family. It was going to be great.  
  
"Where were you when the rest of the band was in Genovia?"  
  
"In my hotel room. Not everyone parties with princesses the night before a big concert."  
  
Mikey M never directly lied in interviews. He would refuse to answer questions if they were too personal, but he did not give people factually incorrect information. He had been in his hotel room at the time, even if everyone else there thought he was in Monaco meeting his newest girlfriend, the luscious Veronica Märkl.  
  
"Is Ms. Märkl with you in Genovia?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
He could hardly try to deny that. Veronica was outside meeting other guests at the party right now. She was one of the hottest actresses in Hollywood after winning a Best Supporting Actress Academy Award earlier that year, and she became an even bigger celebrity after more recently breaking off her recent engagement with George Clooney. She was now part of Piaget's Children's entourage, and she was going to be out in the audience that afternoon as his personal cheerleader.   
  
Mikey M did not tell the members of the press about how lovely Veronica Märkl was, how good they looked together when they went out, or how fortunate it was for him to have found her vacationing in Monaco. They had been photographed together around Italy during the last week. She was a decorative prop and an amiable companion, and she thought of him in the same terms. The tabloids said it was 'Love'.  
  
He never talked about his relationships with women, and the reporters there all knew it. In case anyone wanted to try to ask a follow-up question on Veronica Märkl, he gave the reporter who asked that question a cold glare, and everyone understood his message: No personal details. Ever.  
  
"What's next for Piaget's Children?"  
  
"After birthday parties? I'm thinking we'll start doing weddings and bar mitzvahs. We'll become Piaget's Kings of Fun. Ansel will dress up like a clown, and Angus will do a magic act. I'm good with balloon animals."  
  
Though the words were meant to be a light joke, his tone was clipped and his publicist understood that he had had enough. Mikey M had done his duty. He had smiled for the photographers and spoken with the reporters, but he was going to be on stage in an hour and he wanted to be left alone.  
  
Jen and her assistant Kristy led the group of reporters to speak with other band members in a different room, and Mikey M retreated to his dressing room. His dressing room was located on the ground floor down the hall from the reception room. Mikey M found the room had filled up with even more people during his half-hour absence. Veronica was already back and touching up her make-up. Of course there was no need for her to worry about whether her lipstick was smudged. She was a knock-out.   
  
He listened to her talk about the other guests at the party she had met when he was busy with the reporters, while he let his hair dressers, make-up artists, and other employees mold him into a presentable rock star fit to be seen by a Genovian crown prince, his darling daughter, and a few hundred of their closest friends or staunchest allies.  
  
"Princess Amelia is cute," Veronica said. "She kept on talking about how much she loved an old TV movie I made years ago. I had terminal cancer and was looking for someone to adopt my infant child before I died. It was one of those weepy Lifetime movies. I didn't know princesses had cable."  
  
Mikey M did his best not to smirk. Mia could never resist a story about a strong woman, as portrayed by an aging sitcom star or an inexperienced future starlet, going through major personal trauma and falling in love. Mia had even gotten him to watch a few cheesy Lifetime movies, way back when he imagined himself so much in love with her that he would do literally anything if it meant he could spend a few more hours in her company. Thank god he was no longer such a pushover.  
  
"Was it based on a true story?" Mia used to say that the best ones were based on true stories.  
  
"I don't remember. Ask Princess Amelia. She started telling the Norwegian ambassador all about the movie until her grandmother made her talk to some other guests."   
  
That was the sort of thing never reported in the magazine articles about Mia. She was still babbling about bad TV movies, and she was still being told what to do by Grandmère.  
  
The door opened and Jen and a tall, young man in a suit came in. Another reporter? In case Jen had forgotten, Mikey M was expected to be putting on a concert in about fifteen minutes. He was not in the mood to talk about the greatest influences on his work. He nodded in the direction of the new-comers in greeting, and grabbed one of his guitars lying on the chair next to him. He always liked to tune them himself before performances.  
  
"Hey, are you really Mikey M? Wow. It's an honor to finally meet you. I'm Ted Kuzmin, Princess Amelia's lackey." The man offered his hand, then took it back when he saw that Mikey M was still focused on his guitar tuning.  
  
Mikey M did look up to see what Mia's Ted actually looked like. He had heard far too much about and from Ted when they were making arrangements for the performance. And Ted looked exactly like he sounded – a clean-cut, out-going, friendly American who smiled all the time to everyone he met and who knew he looked good in a suit.   
  
"Please forgive me for not getting up and signing autographs, but I'm busy now. No problems?" Mikey M was usually very polite to everyone he met, but he was not interested in wasting time making friends with Mia's 'lackey.'  
  
"No problems," Ted said. He looked very pleased with himself, so that must mean that all his work was paying off and everything was going well. Would Prince Phillipe fire Ted when he saw that Michael Moscovitz was there? He hoped so.  
  
There was some commotion in the hallway and a young woman tentatively opened the door and peered in. "Où est-ce Monsieur Kuzmin?"  
  
"I'm here," Ted said. "What's going on? I mean, ça va?"  
  
The woman immediately began to explain in very fast, frantic French about how the Genovian national orchestra was still leaving the stage (to which Ted very nicely said, "God, wait a sec, parlez-vouv anglais, or something?") and they wanted to serve the birthday cake before Piaget's Children came on ("Pourriez-vous répéter? Something about cake?") so they would have more time to set-up before the band played, but then someone would have to tell the kitchen staff to serve the cake in a few minutes ("Pourriez-vous parler plus lentment? Where's Francine? Someone get Francine. She knows this awful language. I don't have time for this right now.").  
  
Mikey M knew he was the only one in the room who understood what the woman was saying. He pretended to be paying very close attention to his guitar while he listened to Ted trying to get her to slowly repeat what she had said. At this rate he'd never get Ted out of his dressing room.   
  
Fine. If you want some peace and quiet, sometimes you just have to take care of the situation and do everything yourself. Mikey M very delicately put the guitar back on the chair and stood up and started talking to the nervous woman.   
  
"I understand. I'll tell him and everything will be taken care of," he told her in French. He spoke with the authority and confidence of a man who could deal with anything, even birthday cake. The woman looked relieved.  
  
"You speak French?" Ted asked. "Fantastic. What did she say, Mike?"  
  
Mikey M refrained from correcting Ted as to the proper way to address him (he was not a 'Mike'), and instead acted as translator. Of course he was not going to waste time relaying all of Ted's tedious questions about what precisely was happening. Mikey M had been organizing his band's tours for years before they became a big success, so he knew all the details about setting up prior to a performance. So he told the woman what to do about the specific stage directions and Mia's other lackey, Francine, appeared to take over coordinating the cake-distribution distraction.  
  
"Thanks, Mike, you saved me there," Ted said once Francine had gone off to give the instructions to the kitchen workers.  
  
"I'm not 'Mike'. It's Mikey M." Mikey M sat down and grabbed another guitar to tune. There would be a half hour delay before he went on stage, but he did not intend to waste that half hour making small talk with Mia's obnoxious American assistant.  
  
"Yeah, sorry. So do you know any other languages?"  
  
That was the sort of personal question Mikey M usually avoided answering directly, but for some reason, he wanted to show off in front of Ted, who lived in Genovia and had hardly a working knowledge of French. So Mikey M actually answered the question truthfully.   
  
"I'm fluent in French, Italian, and German. I can get by in Spanish, Greek and Portuguese." When he saw how surprised and impressed even his hairdresser was, he added, "I'm good with languages. It's a hobby. I also juggle."  
  
Mikey M hadn't discovered his skill in learning languages until Mia's grandmother started talking about all the desirable qualities in a royal prince consort. Fluency in all the major languages spoken in Europe was necessary for a Genovian prince. At the time, Grandmère was not so subtly hinting that Michael Moscovitz was not qualified for the position, but he had taken it as a challenge. He had gotten tutors and started with the languages of the countries closest to Genovia, and he showed off his linguistic skills to Princess Clarisse whenever possible.  
  
Even when he was no longer a potential prince consort, Mikey M had continued studying languages on his own. It was fun. And it was a way to prove to himself that Mia and her grandmother were wrong about him. He would have been a damn good prince consort, had Mia taken a chance and stayed with him.  
  
Luckily Jen could tell that Mikey M was tired of being civil to Ted, and she managed to get Ted out of the room, followed by the hairdressers, make-up artists, guitar technicians, and all the other members of his entourage who had congregated in his dressing room. He even sent Veronica out of the room.   
  
"I want to think," he said. No more explanations were necessary. Everyone followed his commands just as the young Genovian woman had followed his stage instructions. He always got his own way.  
  
Once everyone was gone, Mikey M sat back down in front of the mirror and checked at his reflection. He looked great. Mia would take one look at him and she would know she was an idiot for not recognizing him. And she had been an idiot for letting a good-looking, talented, and successful guy like him get away.   
  
The best part would be that she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. She would have to stay out there at her birthday celebrations, amongst all the Genovian ministers, members of other obscure royal families, and her extended family, and be very princess-like and royal. Princesses don't chase after rock stars. And rock stars are way above chasing after stuck-up princesses.  
  
Veronica was a perfect touch to the plan. She was beautiful. Everyone would see her sitting up front and know that she was his current girlfriend. And then they'd see him come on stage. Mia wasn't going to know what hit her. It was going to be fantastic.  
  
******  
  
The party was turning out even better than Mia had dreamed. After a few days of intense negotiation, Mikey M had finally agreed to come to Genovia – provided that he would not be arrested while he was there – so Piaget's Children was actually there! Ready to play for her!  
  
She had asked Lars and then the head of Genovian security why Mikey M was banned from ever entering the country. Lars had said that it was just a "personal matter" and then had tried to convince her not to let Piaget's Children come. He never had any taste in music. François agreed with Mia that Mikey M was a great innovator in the music scene and therefore was worthy of playing for royalty. The head of Genovian Security had said that all they had on file was that Mikey M was a "persona non grata", with a note saying to ask Lars for details. But Lars wouldn't give details.   
  
How many ways were there to get in major trouble in Genovia? His record did say that he was not a violent criminal, so that meant he didn't kill anyone. Maybe he embezzled money from a company based in Genovia, or channeled illegal funds through a Genovian bank account, or tried to hack into some top-secret Genovian computer database, or tried to sell counterfeit Genovian postage stamps. It couldn't be that bad. He was allowed to travel everywhere else in the world. So Mia told Lars that she had given everyone her word that Mikey M would not be arrested, and thought that would be the end of it.  
  
Once they had announced that Piaget's Children was performing, the guest list changed significantly. Instead of sending a middle-aged cousin of Prince Charles, Prince William and Prince Harry were coming to represent the British royal family. The younger members of the Swedish royal family were coming instead of their parents. Everyone important in Genovia would be there, but now other important, fashionable people were begging for invitations, too. Her birthday was becoming the biggest event of the year.  
  
There were so many people there that she had hardly time to say hi to everyone. Her old friends were seated together, but Mia hadn't had time to even see whether everyone had come. Was Tina still reading romance novels? When would Boris come and play with the Genovian royal orchestra? Did anyone know what happened to Lilly?   
  
"Ted! Where have you been?" Mia grabbed her friend's arm before he could run off to solve the next mini-crisis. She knew he had been running around all over the place, but he still smiled and looked like he could take anything in stride.   
  
"I've been everywhere. I finally met Mikey M. You'd think he's the princess of Genovia from the way he was telling everyone what to do. I like him."  
  
"I wish I could meet him," Mia said. "Is he really leaving as soon as the band's done?"  
  
"Yeah. He left very explicit instructions about that. It sounds like he's going to be running off the stage and going right to the car. You'll have to try to invite him back."  
  
"I don't suppose he mentioned what illegal activities he's been up to in Genovia."  
  
"Maybe he stole a woman Prince Phillipe was after. Things are fine with you, right?"  
  
She nodded. She couldn't have asked for a more hectic or more perfect day.  
  
"Good. I have to get back and tell Piaget's Children that everything's ready. The cake's good, right? I told Francine to save me a piece."  
  
Mia wished that she could have Francine sitting next to her, like usual. She wanted Ted to stay and tell her about how well things were going. She wanted to be able to leave her table up front, where everyone could see everything she did. People were constantly coming up to her and wishing her a happy birthday, while she pretended to know who they all were. She wanted someone to sit next to her and whisper people's names in her ear. But all the support she had were her grandmother and her father sitting by her, and they were too busy carrying on their own polite conversations with foreign dignitaries to help her in her polite conversations with foreign dignitaries.  
  
Ted disappeared, an Italian wished her many happy returns of the day, and Mia ate one bite of the cake before an Eastern European couple complimented her on her party. Luckily she didn't have to talk long with them, because there was a commotion on stage and everyone sat down again. It was the highlight of the day for the young and the hip portions of the guests: Piaget's Children was coming on stage to perform.  
  
Mikey M came on stage and smiled. At Mia! Right at her! He was even more handsome in person! He looked around and then, wow, there he was, looking at Mia again. Mia blushed, but he kept on looking. Like he expected something from her. Was she supposed to go up there and introduce him? Maybe officially welcome them on behalf of Genovia? Whatever it was, she had failed to do it, and Mikey M looked disappointed. More than disappointed, he actually looked quite annoyed. The band began to play.  
  
Grandmère and Prince Phillipe did not stay for more than a few minutes after the Piaget's Children came out. Prince Phillipe had been talking to the Minister of Finance, very nicely ignoring the fantastic music being performed live for his daughter, and Grandmère had been talking to a member of the Dutch royal family, her back turned to the stage. But she must not have liked Mikey M's singing, because the moment she heard his voice she actually seemed to jump up and turn around to glare at him. Then she started whispering to Prince Phillipe and they left. Some people really couldn't appreciate good rock music.  
  
Piaget's Children played their most recent hits from "Untaming the Shrew". It was great. But Mikey M kept on looking at her, and that made Mia more embarrassed. The hottest guy in the world was staring at her. What was she supposed to do? He was probably wondering why she was so special that she could get a band as cool as they are to play for her birthday party. According to Ted, Mikey M had been very reluctant to agree to come. He was probably annoyed that he was there in Genovia instead of with Veronica Märkl on a gorgeous beach somewhere.  
  
The band had agreed to play only for an hour, and that hour was soon over. But they weren't finished yet. All the other band members were putting their instruments down, but Mikey M grabbed his acoustic guitar and sat down in front again.  
  
He looked at Mia – again! – and said, "This is a birthday party, right? I didn't know what to get for a girl who has her face on postage stamps, so I decided I'd write her a song. I hope you like it, Princess Amelia."  
  
Woah. Mikey M wrote her a song? He wasn't just dedicating one of their songs to her. She had never heard of him ever writing anyone a song. She was the very first. How much was he being paid for coming? It couldn't possibly be enough.  
  
It began with Mikey M strumming on his acoustic guitar and talking about whales, sort of Bob-Dylan-ish. Then he started singing. But it didn't sound like his usual voice. It was less refined. It was almost like … if she was completely honest, it reminded her of Michael Moscovitz, really, when he was just fiddling around with a guitar in his bedroom during high school. It was just a guy singing a song for a girl he knew.  
  
But Mikey M wasn't singing for just any girl. It was for her, unmistakably for Mia, the princess of Genovia. He didn't use her name, but the song was about a princess who loved whales. Mia loved the whales. She was always very concerned about environmental issues. She used to want to join Greenpeace, before she learned about her royal title. Mikey M must have read articles about her – how unbelievably cool was that? He must have read about her! – to be able to write a song about her and the whales.  
  
She was less pleased with the chorus: "The princess is going to save the whales/As soon as Daddy dies." Maybe it was a good thing that Prince Phillipe was no longer there. He would not appreciate an allusion to his death. Luckily Grandmère and he had not returned from the palace since they had left during the first song.  
  
By the second verse, it wasn't such a happy save-the-whales song. The princess was going to dinners and wearing nice clothes while the whales died. But she didn't care because she was going to save the whales "as soon as Daddy dies" and she is in control. It wasn't a very nice song at all. Mikey M, the most famous rock star in the world, was actually attacking her actions in a song supposedly written for her on her birthday. The tune was still very pretty. It was actually more than pretty; it was beautiful. But Mikey M was calling her a hypocrite.  
  
The third verse was about her plans, to watch the whales, to swim with the whales, to follow the whales across the world, to protect the whales, to comfort the whales, to feed the whales, to clothe the whales… the plans got more and more ridiculous. How dare he? "Our princess is going to save the whales/As soon as Daddy dies." He was outright mocking her now.  
  
The final verse was gentler. The princess was dreaming of her whales, and he said that it was a good thing she still had dreams. Even if they were just of saving the whales, watching the whales, swimming with the whales… "My princess is going to save the whales./I know she will./As soon as her Daddy dies."  
  
There was something about those last lines. Mikey M's voice was so … familiar. And not just because she owned all his albums. It was really… really … the way he said "My princess"… It was Michael Moscovitz.  
  
It was Michael Moscovitz.   
  
Michael Moscovitz was standing in front of her, taking a bow to enthusiastic applause and saying in his so-obviously-Michael-Moscovitz-y voice "Thanks". She was an idiot. He must think she's such an idiot. What was he doing there?   
  
Michael Moscovitz was Mikey M, and Mia never figured it out.  
  
He turned to go off stage and Mia immediately stood up to go after him. Let everyone else stare. She had to say something to him. She didn't know what, but she couldn't just let him leave. Mia weaved around the tables of guests and ignored people approaching her and trying to wish her happy birthday for the zillionth time. She didn't stop to talk to Francine. She practically ran into the palace and down to the guest wing that was reserved for Piaget's Children.  
  
She should have known. She should have recognized his face. She should have recognized his voice. Mia wanted him to know that she now knew why he kept on looking at her. He had to know that she hadn't known before, but she knew now.  
  
Everyone and everything was in complete chaos inside the palace. Were all concert back stages like this? Mia tried to stop different people to ask where Mikey M was, but no one stopped long enough to do more than point to the end of the hall, where more and more people were darting to and fro. Apparently Mikey M was the cause of the uproar. Then she heard his voice, yelling at people in perfect French with the distinct Genovian accent that he had prided himself on. Yes, it was Michael Moscovitz, trying to figure out where someone had put his baggage.  
  
In English, he said, "Felix, get out of here and make certain no one comes back here who shouldn't." His low, sexy command-voice! Mia dodged one of Mikey M's security personnel and was now just a few steps away from his dressing room door. She could see that Felix was in there, straightening the bow tie on his tuxedo at the mirror. Mikey M was still telling people how to pack in a mixture of English and French.  
  
"Expecting anyone?" Felix asked.  
  
"How much do you want to bet that Mia is going to be running back here," Mikey M said. "She finally did recognize me at the end. I know it." But it wasn't his usual sexy voice. It didn't sound like him at all. It was … meaner.  
  
"Isn't that why you're here?"  
  
"Not to see her," Mikey M said. "I was supposed to be out of here by now. Veronica is probably already out there waiting. Forget it, forget it, all of you. Get out. I'll get this done faster myself and when I'm gone you can get the rest." He translated that into French, and people started filing out of his dressing room, some noticing Mia standing there, but she didn't care.   
  
"So what do I tell Mia if she asks about you?" Felix asked.  
  
"Tell her I sit at home all day crying my eyes out that I'm not the prince of some insignificant country and am therefore unworthy of her," he said. "Or maybe tell her the truth. We're here because we're getting paid a lot and I thought it would be good for a laugh. It's not every day you get to upstage a princess at her own birthday party."  
  
That didn't sound like Michael at all. Or maybe that was how he was like these days. Seven years was a long time. She didn't know him anymore, and maybe she didn't want to know him.   
  
She should return to the party and pretend that nothing had happened. She shouldn't be there now. What would he think if he saw her there peeking into his dressing room? She would not let herself look ridiculous in front of him, or at least she would not let herself look more ridiculous than she must already seem. Mia turned around and began to walk away.  
  
That's when she noticed a half dozen Genovian police men coming down the hallway. Leading the procession was her father, and he was furious. Lars was walking beside him, but he was arguing with the prince and making him even madder.  
  
"Mia promised them that Mikey M wouldn't get in trouble for coming," Lars was saying. "She didn't know. She gave her word."  
  
Prince Phillipe looked like he was ready to burst a blood vessel. "I don't care what she said. She was wrong to make promises she could not keep. I want that man arrested."  
  
"He says he's leaving the country for good," Lars said. "I talked to him before he came, sir."  
  
"You should have told me. You don't have the authority to make deals with criminals. He's going to be arrested for violating our agreement and entering Genovia. Mia! What are you doing here? Get out!"  
  
Mikey M must have heard them coming, because when Mia turned to look back into his dressing room, he was leaping out the window. Yes, the window! He immediately broke into a run, heading across the back of the palace, where he would be in plain sight of everyone at the party. Prince Phillipe, Lars, and the police men hurried into the room, but Mia ran to a window to see what Michael would do next. Would her father really send the police chasing after him in front of all her guests?   
  
Luckily her father and the police were too confused to give out orders fast enough to detain him. From her window, Mia watched as Mikey M made it to the back entrance, where Veronica Märkl was waiting by a car. It was like a movie. He kissed the girl, waved good-bye to the bad guys, and the two of them jumped into the car. It raced off in the direction of the French border. He had escaped.  
  
That could not have been Michael Moscovitz. No way.  
  
Mia was going to kill Lars. And everyone else who had been lying to her.  
  
-----  
  
(Author's Note: The end of another long chapter. Please excuse my attempts at having people speak French. Je ne parle pas français, so all the French phrases are cut-and-pasted from the Internet. Thanks for reading! Next chapter: All about Michael and Mia's break-up seven years ago.) 


	4. Royally Flushed

Chapter 4 – Royally Flushed   
  
The most unbelievable thing about the day after Mia's birthday was how ordinary it was. Her father was not at breakfast, but he often was too busy to eat with the rest of the family. Grandmère never would be seen before ten o'clock at the earliest. There were still some cousins staying in the palace, so Mia had breakfast with a few duchesses, princesses, and fashion designers.   
  
"The fireworks were nice," old Tante Jean Marie said. "René didn't get fireworks for his birthday."  
  
"He had more models, though," 15-year-old cousin Stefano pointed out.  
  
"That's why you didn't go to cousin René's birthday party, young man," his mother, Tante Eva, said sternly.  
  
"I saw the pictures."  
  
Mia hoped she would be around when Tante Eva saw René next. Tante Eva looked like she was ready to vent her disapproval on the unsuspecting croissant on her plate. To think that a few hundred years ago all of Mia's control-freak relatives would actually have had life-and-death control over the lives of hundreds of thousands of people living on their lands.  
  
"I'd like to see the pictures, too," Tante Jean Marie said. "I remember the cake was really something. I couldn't eat any with my diabetes, but it was very pretty."  
  
Mia remembered that cake. It was laced with so much rum that she became woozy after a few bites. René hadn't noticed that she stepped out before things got too wild.  
  
But why were they talking about René, anyway, when they could be talking about more interesting subjects, like why Mikey M was leaping out of windows. Mia wanted someone to ask her about it, even though she wouldn't actually answer the question truthfully. It wasn't natural how uncurious her relatives were.  
  
"René says that I can visit him whenever I want!" Stefano defiantly put more honey on his roll, just daring his mother to scold him. Stefano had closer familial ties to the Monaco Grimaldis than the Genovian branch of the family, so Mia did not have to worry about the corrupting influences of her libertine distant cousin René on future-libertine cousin Stefano.   
  
But it didn't matter that René was Stefano's newest hero. Mia's ex-boyfriend, the only man she had ever given her heart to, had been in Genovia the day before, and had ran away without saying a word to her. Well, technically he did address her when he was on stage, but that was hardly the same thing.   
  
Her father and grandmother hadn't said a word to her about Michael's appearance and abrupt departure. They had returned to the party yesterday as if nothing had happened, when, of course, the world would never be the same again.   
  
They could try to ignore the Michael situation as much as they liked. That didn't mean it was going to go away. It was a disaster, and it was all Mia's fault. She hardly ate any of her breakfast while she contemplated what could possibly come next. Would Michael talk to the press? Would she be expected to make a statement?  
  
Stefano's mother ended the argument by saying that Stefano could invite René to their palace. Ever since René started living in Miragnac, far enough from Mia's grandmother and father's watchful eyes, he has been happily misbehaving as much as he wanted. He wouldn't be all that eager to visit stodgy aunts and uncles and fifteen-year-old cousins who couldn't even drink yet.   
  
But at least they stopped arguing and the meal could be declared over. Mia was relieved when she could finally go to her office in the palace and see Francine and Ted there. They looked as concerned as they should be, and they were both reading the front page of Genovia's newspaper.  
  
"What's the verdict?" Mia asked.  
  
Francine immediately turned the paper over, hiding whatever unpleasant thing they had been reading before Mia had come in. "Of course it was a great success. How could there be any other opinion?"  
  
"Then why can't I see the paper? Is there an unflattering picture of me on the front page? Did the papers not like my dress?" She turned to Ted and waited for the real reason. It had to be about Michael. Francine and Ted had been too busy with the party yesterday for her to have discussed the incident with them, but they certainly must know about how her father tried to arrest a world famous rock star.  
  
But even Ted didn't want to tell her. He very reluctantly finally said, "Prince Phillipe said not to show you the paper. Sorry, Mia. He's really serious. He's already fired Lucille and Lars."  
  
"What?"  
  
Her father couldn't fire Lars! Lars was the head of Mia's security! Not a single person had come close to ever kidnapping Mia. He was great at his job. He had sat through algebra class with her. He had followed her on her first date. He was practically part of the family.   
  
It was all Mia's fault. She left Francine, Ted, and the offending newspaper, and went straight to her father's office. His secretary tried to say that the prince was currently too busy to see Mia, but when did princesses ever let commoners keep them away from yelling at their fathers?  
  
Prince Phillipe was talking on the phone when Mia barged in. Apparently the newspaper article must have been really bad. He was demanding that they remove the newspaper from the newsstands at once and print a retraction the next day. She'd look at the paper later. She had to first get Lars his job back.  
  
"Dad! You can't fire Lars!" She sat down in the leather chair in front of her father's desk.   
  
He must have seen that Mia was not going to go away. He abruptly ended his phone conversation and closed the door to his office. He sat back down at his desk and said, "I didn't want to, Mia, but it had to be done. Lars had overstepped his authority in allowing … that man … into Genovia."  
  
"It was all my fault, Dad. I invited everyone here. I mean, Piaget's Children is a really good band, and I've been having image problems—"  
  
"Image problems? But you're beautiful, Mia."  
  
Sometimes fathers could be so dense. "Not self-image. Genovians don't like me. Ted and Francine told me. So I thought—"  
  
"Genovians love you."  
  
This was not the important matter they had to discuss. "Anyway, I'm taking the responsibility for this problem. You and Grandmère always want me to take more responsibilities. So this is my problem. Not yours, not Lars's. And it really wasn't Camille's fault, so it's totally unfair that you fired her, too. I thought the party was great."  
  
"It's not as simple as that. Lars was the only one who knew who … that man really was, and he didn't stop you from inviting him."  
  
"He tried, but I had already made up my mind."  
  
"He may have endangered your life."  
  
"No he didn't, and you know that. Michael would never hurt me."  
  
Just the mention of Michael's name was enough to make Prince Phillipe's concerned-father-act go out the window. Now he was a very irate prince with his own police force and national guard at his command. Mia should feel flattered that her father was so concerned about her. And she was really appreciative. But she was going to get Lars back, somehow, whether her father liked it or not.   
  
The direct approach wasn't going to work. "What's in the papers?" she asked.  
  
"It's all nonsense," the prince said. He was already reaching for the phone again. Maybe he would calm down and act more rationally later. In the meantime, Mia would see for herself what "nonsense" was in the Genovian papers.  
  
When she returned to her office, Francine and Ted were talking quietly, no doubt discussing the newspaper now lying on the table between them. Before they could stop her, Mia grabbed it and turned it over to see the front page. GENOVIA'S #1 FUGITIVE: MIKEY M.  
  
"Oh my god. Do they know?" Mia didn't want to read the entire article, so she looked over at her friends.   
  
"They know he's banned from entering the country," Ted said. "They don't say why. They don't know a bit more than we do."  
  
"The official word from us is that it's a strictly personal matter," Francine said. "Prince Phillipe is taking it all very personally."  
  
"I'm telling you, it's about a woman," Ted said.  
  
Mia looked back at the newspaper. Someone had taken a picture just as Michael was dropping from the window. He was actually smiling. The nerve! The audacity! The style! But before she could forget herself and start actually admiring the gesture, she looked at her friends' concerned faces and thought of her father. This was going to be a big problem, and she was going to need Ted and Francine's help if she was really going to be the one to resolve it.  
  
"You're right, it is about a woman. Me." Mia sat down at the table with them and the newspaper face-up in the center of them. She wasn't going to hide anything from them, at least.  
  
"How is that possible?" Francine asked. "You said you didn't know Mikey M."  
  
"He was my boyfriend."  
  
Ted shook his head. "No way, Mia. You mean you've been keeping that a secret all this time? We know your schedule, sun up to sun down. When did you run off with Mikey M?"  
  
Mia looked at the picture again. It was kind of unbelievable. Boring, unpopular Princess Amelia and Mikey M, an item? "It's been over for a really long time. But we were together for three and a half years back in high school."  
  
The older palace employees would probably have remembered Mia's first trips to Genovia, when she wouldn't stop telling everyone about her great boyfriend Michael Moscovitz. Francine and Ted had only started working in the palace since Mia had finished college. But Francine was still one of Mia's cousins, so she immediately understood who Mia was referring to. Her eyes widened and she said, "Oh my god, Mia!"  
  
Ted was not so well versed on the old palace gossip. "So Mikey M is an old boyfriend? Your dad's pretty harsh with your exes."  
  
"Ted, he's Michael Moscovitz," Francine said in a low voice.   
  
"Michael Moscovitz," Ted repeated. He thought about the name for a little bit before he finally recognized it. "Damn, I'm going to be fired, aren't I? You might have mentioned this little item of interest earlier, Mia."  
  
"I didn't know, really. I'm really sorry I got everyone into trouble, especially Lars. I wish I never turned twenty-five. But now that Michael's back in the picture, well, I don't think I'm going to be able to avoid dealing with him. I mean, Dad's still really mad about, you know, everything."  
  
Francine was still in shock. Ted looked like he was going to be sick. And it was all Mia's fault. All of it.   
  
Francine finally said, "Maybe you should tell us what really happened. We only know what Prince Phillipe let everyone here know."  
  
"What do you mean? Tell you about what?"  
  
"When you and Michael Moscovitz broke up."  
  
*****  
  
Seven years earlier…  
  
Mia was a senior in high school and Michael was a junior at Columbia, and they were still crazy about each other after three and a half years of dating. They had gone through more than their share of ups and downs, but there were far more ups than downs. Even Grandmère had relented and allowed Mia to take Michael as her escort to some events, such as the inauguration of the Institute for the Study of the Economics of the Western Mediterranean Region. Mia was in an elegant white Chanel dress. Michael was wearing a sports jacket and tie. They were the youngest and cutest people there.  
  
"How much do you think it costs to save a whale?" Mia whispered.  
  
"I bet we could ask that guy." Michael nodded towards the small, bald Frenchman currently speaking about the importance of free trade in the European community, especially in the western Mediterranean region that included Italy, France, Spain, Genovia, and Monaco. The esteemed economist quoted large numbers and growth rates, and used lots of esoteric economic terms that Michael understood thanks to all his college economics courses, but that Mia couldn't understand. And she was supposed to go up there and give a speech after him? She was going to look ridiculous.  
  
Mia whispered, "I'm going to sound like a total moron after him."  
  
Michael looked like he was very politely listening to the economist's speech, but he smiled at Mia and took the papers from her that had the speech the Genovian ambassador had prepared for her. Without making it obvious to everyone else that he was reading the papers in front of him instead of listening, he quickly skimmed through it and handed it back to Mia.  
  
"It's fine," he said quietly. "Not as entertaining as this guy's speech, but not everyone can work a crowd like he can."  
  
The French ambassador's wife stifled a yawn. Other people were less successful in their attempts to hide their boredom. Mia's speech was full of platitudes about the continued cooperation between Genovia and its neighbors. She was going to be just as boring as the economist, but she wouldn't have as many numbers to talk about, so she won't look as smart.  
  
Of course Michael noticed how nervous she was. Mia was always terrified before she had to speech in front of crowds, which was the main reason why her grandmother was always sending her to events where she had to speak. Thank god Michael was there to lend his support, otherwise she'd be hiding in the bathroom until everyone went home.  
  
Michael took the speech back from Mia and took a pencil out of his pocket. Then he turned to the blank back of the last page and started writing. Mia wanted to look over his shoulder to see what he was doing, but she had to pretend that she was listening about the impressive growth in the tourist industry in the western Mediterranean area.  
  
Michael was soon finished, and he handed the paper back to her. She tried not to laugh out loud when she saw what he had written:   
  
"An Alternative Version of Princess Amelia's Speech: Hi, I'm Mia and I don't care about international trade. My grandmother made me come and give a speech tonight so I'll get more practice and won't screw up when I have to speak in front of more important people. The food was pretty good tonight, but my wonderful boyfriend and I think your music you've played so far has really sucked. But you're all way smarter than both of us, so you don't care what we think. In conclusion, the $40 million dollars Genovia has contributed to your foundation would have been better spent on saving the whales."   
  
Mia very nicely read the other side of the page when it was her turn to speak. She really should not have accidentally left the speech up on the podium. She was always doing stupid things like that. It got set aside during the clean-up after the dinner. And it got turned over…  
  
"It was just a joke," Mia told her father, and then her grandmother, and then both of them.  
  
"Your Michael will send a private apology. We will, of course, have someone at the Genovian embassy write it for him. We wouldn't want him making any more suggestions for how they could better spend their endowments. The whales…" Grandmère finished drinking her second sidecar in ten minutes. She was still furious about the incident.  
  
Michael had simply been trying to get her to laugh and relax before her speech. And what was so wrong with saving the whales? "He didn't mean it about us giving all that money to Greenpeace instead of the economists. But he was right about something. I do want to save the whales."  
  
Prince Phillipe laughed. "We know that, Mia. How much are you making me give them now? $300 a day?" Mia's father never took her Greenpeace ideas seriously, and when a man has $300 million, he does not care too much about a few hundred dollars a day to keep his only daughter from strangling his only mother.  
  
"$400. It went up again when you wanted me to address the U.N. But I want to do something more."  
  
Grandmère poured herself a third drink. "If you say another word about joining Greenpeace and saving the baby seals in Iceland instead of going to college, I will send you in my place when your father goes to the White House next week."  
  
"Grandmère!" Of course her grandmother couldn't possibly be serious. Mia had sworn to Lilly that she would never shake hands with a Republican president, that is, unless he or she actually cared about the environment. Her father wouldn't let Mia be tortured like that, right?   
  
"Don't worry, Mia, I promised your mother I wouldn't take you."   
  
"Michael and I had an idea," Mia began. She probably should not have mentioned Michael's name, but she couldn't think of the plan without thinking of him. Grandmère and Prince Phillipe already looked unenthusiastic about her idea. "I make speeches at fundraisers all the time, so why can't I make speeches for fundraisers for causes I actually believe in? I mean, Princess Diana had landmines. I want Greenpeace and the whales."  
  
Her father didn't even have to think about the proposal. He immediately said, "Greenpeace is out of the question."  
  
Mia had expected resistance, but she did not expect an immediate flat-out refusal. "Why?"  
  
"It is an organization run by political radicals cloaking their anti-globalization and anti-corporate political agendas in the guise of environmental concerns. It is one thing for the family to be making a substantial private donation in your name. It is not an appropriate organization to publicly associate with Genovia."  
  
"I'm not saying all of Genovia agrees with me."  
  
Prince Phillipe was not finished. "Did you understand a word of what you said when you spoke in front of the economic Institute? We depend on cooperation with the entire European community to survive, and your Greenpeace friends are not very popular with the Spanish and French governments."  
  
"At least they're trying to make a difference. I'm not going to change my mind about them because they hold protests in France."  
  
Grandmère was not going to allow the argument to continue without her input. "We aren't asking you to go out harpooning whales and burn down rainforests. We only want you to think about someone other than yourself and your boyfriend. You are not going to publicly fundraise for Greenpeace."  
  
"You're being totally unfair. You want to control my entire life."  
  
Prince Phillipe shook his head. "We are preventing you from making a big mistake. You have to think of Genovia."  
  
"I think about Genovia all the time, Dad. But I also care about the rest of the world, too. I'm not like you. I can't dedicate my entire life to Genovia. I want to do more than that."  
  
Bad move. Mia didn't know who looked madder, her grandmother or her father. Apparently princesses were not supposed to say things like that.  
  
Prince Phillipe said in a low, controlled voice, "Perhaps you ought to reevaluate your priorities. You have certain obligations to Genovia that you cannot ignore. You are a princess."  
  
"I know," Mia said quickly. "I care about Genovia, really, I do, but—"  
  
"There can be no 'but'," her father said. "If you are going to one day lead Genovia, you must get that clear now."  
  
They weren't mad at her now. It was much worse. They looked disappointed in her.  
  
"You're right," Mia said, "I was wrong. Again. I'm always wrong. I won't do anything public for Greenpeace. I'll apologize to the economic Institute people for Michael's joke. I'm sorry."  
  
Grandmère would not let her get away so easily. "We have been very patient with you, Amelia, but we have to accept that you still have much to learn before you are ready to take your father's place."  
  
More princess lessons? Every time Mia messed up, her grandmother found some new way to punish her. Summer vacation in a convent to learn the importance of simple living? Another boring speech somewhere?  
  
"I'm trying, Grandmère."  
  
"Things will be different next year. You'll be closer to Genovia when you are at your university. You will spend weekends back in Genovia, of course." Go home every weekend? Mia's social life in college was really going to suck. But Mia was not in a position to complain now.  
  
Prince Phillipe said, "Your Michael will be out of the picture. That may be the best change for you."  
  
"What? I'm not breaking up with Michael."  
  
Grandmère had probably been waiting for this moment for years. "He is your first boyfriend. You are his first girlfriend. It is very cute, yes, but you are going to France next year, and he stays in America. You let him get you into trouble with this 'alternative speech' nonsense, and now you are letting him talk you into becoming a Greenpeace spokesman. He is a nice young man. You could have done much worse. But he does not know how to conduct himself as an associate of one of Europe's oldest royal families."  
  
"He's been perfect. I'm the one who screws up all the time."  
  
Prince Phillipe said, "Michael Moscovitz does influence you a great deal. You depend on him too much. It is for the best that you are leaving him behind."  
  
"He does not—"   
  
The problem with arguing with her father was that he was right. She did depend on Michael a whole lot. Michael was the only one who could get Mia to really calm down before making speeches. Michael could always make her laugh. Michael helped her figure out what she wanted to do with her life. He was such a huge part of her life now that she couldn't imagine how she would cope without him.   
  
How was she going to survive without him?  
  
"I can stay around New York for a year and do some volunteer work. Prince William got to take a year off before he started college, too. Then Michael will go with me to France. He says he'd like to work in Europe after he graduates. His French is very good, right, Grandmère?"  
  
"What sort of leader do you think you'll be? You cannot go even a year without your Michael? Renaldo women are not that weak." Grandmère smiled. She looked far too pleased to finally be discussing reasons why Mia should dump Michael.  
  
"I am not weak, Grandmère. I am in love."  
  
Mia knew that her grandmother was not completely heartless, but Grandmère did not look like she was going to be convinced by a sentimental speech this time. But Mia was not going to give up Michael. Instead of arguing with Mia some more, Grandmère drank another sidecar. As far as she was concerned, the matter was settled. Mia was going to become a better princess by spending more time in Genovia and dumping Michael.  
  
Mia wanted to leave. She didn't bother to say good-bye, she went right to the door. But Prince Phillipe followed. He stopped her in the embassy foyer.   
  
"You know that your grandmother and I only want what is best for you, Mia."  
  
She was not going to let her father and grandmother run her life and tell her who she could date. She also knew that the security guards by the door were listening, so she said in a low voice, "You want me to break up with Michael because of a stupid note that ended up in a tabloid and because of an idea we had about saving the whales."  
  
"You know that's not true. You need to move on." He spoke at normal volume, like he wanted to announce to everyone that he was arguing with his daughter.  
  
"Move on? But, Dad, I don't want to move on. I like things the way they are."  
  
"They can't remain that way. You can't always do whatever you want. You have to be ready for your future. And as the future leader of Genovia, you cannot hide behind your boyfriend."  
  
Mia couldn't help herself. She nearly shouted, "He'll be the Genovian Prince Consort by then."  
  
Prince Phillipe now looked around to see who could have heard her. He said in a lower voice, "Mia, listen to me. I know what it's like to leave behind someone you love. Your mother meant a lot to me. But we both understood that this was how things had to be. She would not have been happy in Genovia."  
  
He wasn't going to weasel his way out of this by talking about her mother. Mia said, "Michael will be."  
  
"He may have his own plans for his life, and if – and this is a big if – he ever marries you, all he would be for the rest of his life is the Prince Consort of the Princess of Genovia."  
  
"He's willing to make that sacrifice." Mia had never actually discussed the topic with Michael, but she knew him and she knew he would stand by her, no matter what.   
  
"He's twenty-one years old. He thinks he can do everything. You owe it to yourself and to him to step back. Don't rush him into becoming something he may not really want to be."  
  
Mia tried to think of something to say in his defense, but, well, what if her father was right? Michael was studying computer science, but who ever heard of a prince working for an Internet start-up company?  
  
Prince Phillipe saw he had the advantage, so he added, "I'm not going to pretend that I like your Michael because I don't. He's not nearly good enough for you. He's too cocky."  
  
"No, he isn't!" Mia protested. But she was losing the argument.   
  
Michael would be stuck going to fancy dinners and making polite conversation with diplomats for the rest of his life if he married her. He wouldn't even ever get any power in the country. He would never be able to say what he wanted. He would be trapped by the same constraints that Mia now lived with, and all he would get out of it would be … her. There's no way that Mia was worth it. He would one day resent the sacrifice she was forcing on him. He would not be happy.  
  
Her grandmother and father were right. She had to break up with Michael. And now, before she lost her nerve.  
  
So she did it. Mia went to Michael's dorm room at Columbia that very evening. He was studying for a big exam the next day, but he seemed so genuinely happy to see her that she almost changed her mind. He wanted to know what Grandmère's reaction to the 'alternative speech' thing was. He wanted to know why Mia looked so weird. He wanted to know if she was all right. He wanted her to sit down and let him get her something to drink. He was so incredibly nice.  
  
"So what's my penance?" Michael asked. "I have an economics exam tomorrow. Perhaps I'll be punished then for blaspheming against the Institute for the Study of the Economics of the Western Mediterranean Region."  
  
"Grandmère is having the embassy write an apology for you. You'll have to sign it."   
  
Michael smiled and Mia wished she had stayed at home. How could she break up with him? Wonderful, darling Michael, the love of her life, whose every smile she treasured. Intelligent, handsome Michael.   
  
"I'm moving to Genovia for good after college," she blurted out. "I'll never move back to the States."  
  
Michael nodded stoically and said, "We always knew that would happen, right?"  
  
"And I have to break up with you," Mia added.  
  
Michael did not stoically accept that. He looked at her with his beautiful peat-bog-brown eyes, and said sternly, "Your grandmother told you that, didn't she? She's wrong. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Ever."  
  
Mia almost laughed out loud at that. Of course she had to do things she didn't want to do, like go to balls with guys she didn't like or go to state dinners with a bunch of old strangers and mediocre food. She had duties he would absolutely hate to have himself. She was doing the right thing.  
  
"I can't be a spokesperson for Greenpeace," she said. "It would hurt Genovia. I can't let anything bad happen to Genovia because of me. Don't you see?" It was a last ditch attempt. Maybe he would see how difficult her position really was.  
  
"No, I don't," Michael said. "I'm sure the Genovians would admire you for doing all you could for a cause you truly believe in."  
  
He really didn't understand. She had to think of Genovia first. Genovia didn't pick her for its princess, but she was all they had. Michael never did think of Genovia. He treated her princess duties as sort of a weird job she had. He didn't understand what it was really like because, well, he wasn't royal himself. He would never understand the obligations she had to live under. He would hate to live under them, too.  
  
"I'm really sorry, Michael, but that's not the way it is. It's not the way things are ever going to be, either. I'm a princess. You don't understand how it is for me."  
  
"I've been at your side ever since you first learned about your role. I do know how it is. You tell me about it. I watch you. You're making this Greenpeace thing into a big melodrama, like you always do."  
  
"Maybe you'd understand if you were royal, too."  
  
She had never said anything like that to him before, and for a moment neither of them could say anything. She had never seen Michael look so hurt by something she had said. Her grandmother loved to flaunt Michael's lack of royal blood, but Mia had always said that things like that didn't matter. But now she actually agreed with her grandmother. Michael was not meant to have a life like hers. He would be better off without her.  
  
Before she apologized or started crying or doing something else stupid, Mia stood up and said, "It's probably best that we don't see each other again. I'm really, really sorry."  
  
"You're serious? You really are dumping me because I'm not a prince?"  
  
"It's the best for me and for you and for Genovia."  
  
And she fled.  
  
Lilly called again and again, but Mia never answered. She couldn't stay friends with Lilly if she couldn't be with Michael. That would make things too difficult for both of them. Besides, Lilly would just try to tell Mia what to do, like everyone else, and Lilly also wouldn't know what is right because she, too, wasn't royal.   
  
So that's how Mia lost her best friend and the love of her life because of whales.  
  
Unfortunately, the story didn't end there. 


	5. Retaliation

Chapter 5 – Retaliation  
  
As far as Mikey M was concerned, he was through with Genovia. He had gotten publicly invited to Genovia, he had been able to see darling Princess Amelia, and he had gotten them all in trouble with the international press thanks to his dramatic exit. He had showed the Genovian royal family how important he was, and now he could move on.  
  
Or he would move on if the rest of the world would. It must have been a slow news week, because as far as Mikey M could tell, every single reporter in the known world had called or approached him to ask why he fled from Genovia.  
  
Thank god he was too important to deal with the press himself. Jen told everyone that it was a "personal matter with the royal family" because that was what the Genovian royal family was saying. Mikey M would not tell her any more, and Felix valued his life far too much to let anyone know that he knew more than he was sharing.  
  
Mikey M had planned on spending a few weeks after the tour just relaxing and working on songs for their next album, but he was not being allowed to quietly hide in his London apartment. Even when he tried to hold band practice everyone just wanted to talk about Genovia.   
  
So Mikey M was hiding from everyone. He did not leave his apartment to see the reporters waiting outside for him. He did not invite anyone up to see him, other than the occasional food orders he made via Jen's assistant. Kristy did not ask any questions; she gave him his food and ran away like he wanted.  
  
How long would it take before everyone forgot about Genovia? And, more importantly, how long would it take before Michael Moscovitz could forget about it, too?  
  
*****  
  
Mia had been Michael's very first girlfriend, so she was the very first person who had ever dumped him. And he did not deal with it well. In fact, he made matters much, much worse.  
  
Mistake #1: Michael didn't realize how serious Mia was. They had "broken up" a few times in the past when Mia over-reacted to something silly, but they both always knew they were still in love and then one of them would apologize and all would be OK again. Michael was definitely still in love, and he still fully intended to marry her.   
  
He had his economics exam the next day and wrote the essay question all about Genovia. His relationship with the Princess of Genovia was common knowledge, so even his professor had thought that his essay praising the Genovian government's tariff controls was adorable. He went to his advanced French class, where the instructor thought his Genovian accent was cute. Michael delivered an impromptu speech about the necessity of strenuous environmental protection laws for Mediterranean resorts. Of course everyone knew he was talking about Genovia. He went to his European history class. He wanted to learn all that he would need to know to help Mia with her country. He did have two computer science classes, but neither met on that day. So once the history lecture was over, he took the subway to Albert Einstein High School to wait for Mia after school.   
  
Michael waited by the limo, and noted that Hans the driver wouldn't let him in like he used to do when Michael decided to stop by to surprise Mia after school. Mia's security had become tighter over the years as she got more public exposure, so now she got trailed by Lars and driven around by Hans. Michael had thought that Hans had liked him, but now Hans wasn't saying anything to him. In fact, Hans was calling someone on his cell phone, probably warning Lars that Michael was there. The two older men would do anything for Mia, so they were probably trying to keep her from crying by keeping her away from Michael.  
  
Michael was pleased when he saw Mia coming out of the school building and walk up to him. She did not look at all pleased to see him. This was her Princess-of-Genovia war face. She was miserable. And she wasn't going to apologize, that's for sure. So that meant that it would be left to Michael to make things right.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry I was a jerk yesterday," Michael said. "You're right. You have to think of Genovia, I understand. The Greenpeace thing was a bad idea. I'm sorry I got you in trouble with your family. But we shouldn't let your princess deportment rules get in the way of what we have. It's very important that you learn, you know, about all your responsibilities and which fork to use and all—"  
  
"When you lie, the top of your ears turn red," Mia said in a very miserable monotone.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Grandmère pointed it out," Mia said. "My nostrils flare when I lie. Grandmère says everyone gives himself away somehow."  
  
"But I'm not lying. Really, Mia, I don't want to break up with you." Just in case her grandmother was right, he should probably not mention the fork thing again.   
  
Mia took a deep breath and said, "Your apology is accepted, but I'm afraid I will not change my mind. I'm sorry, too. But it's better this way. Don't track me down again. Thank you." She said it so quickly that Michael couldn't even see whether her nostrils were flaring.  
  
She went into the limo and slammed the door. She always gave him rides when she met him. Michael turned to Lars, but his old friend just sadly shook his head and got in the front passenger seat. If Lars didn't have a smile or a word of encouragement, it was bad. Mia really did think this was the end of their relationship.   
  
He still sent flowers and left long messages on her answering machine every day for the next week until Lars told him that if Michael didn't stop all this, Mia would be forced to take legal action against him.  
  
Mistake #2: Michael then talked about it. A lot. To anyone who would listen. He wanted to hear other people's opinions about whether he had done the right thing or not. He wanted someone to be sympathetic. He wanted everyone to say that he was right and Mia was wrong. He wandered around his dorm at Columbia and talked to people he had never met. He went to his classes and told everyone there. He even told random people around New York, anyone who seemed like he or she would listen.  
  
He never read the gossip columns, so he didn't realize that some of the people he was randomly talking to were actually reporters. He didn't think that the freshman he had dragged into his room to show all the presents Mia had given him over the years would then tell a magazine what he had seen. He didn't think at all, really.   
  
Mia's family was always very protective of her, but not even Prince Phillipe could stop all the tabloids from printing long articles of "exclusive" interviews with the dumped boyfriend. Michael didn't realize what was happening until Lilly e-mailed him a picture in a tabloid and wrote in all capital letters to tell him to stop humiliating Mia. Then he looked around and realized how much of a mistake he had made. He'd have to do something really great to make it up to his princess.  
  
Mistake #3: Michael really should not have gone to the ball at the Genovian embassy for Mia's eighteenth birthday and to celebrate her departure for Genovia. He hadn't expected to be invited, and he wasn't. But he knew she was leaving the country at the end of May, so there wasn't much time left to win her back.  
  
Michael had watched literally hundreds of movies with Mia since they were very young, so he knew the sort of movies she liked. There was dancing, romance, and a big dramatic gesture in the end. The hero proclaims his love for the heroine in some flashy way, and she realizes the depth of his feelings for her, and they live happily ever after. So that would be what Mia would want, something worthy of the movies.  
  
Michael did not go to any of his classes during the last week of April while he made his preparations. After seeing what happened when he talked to people about his problems, he decided never to make that same mistake again. So no one knew what he was doing. He sometimes left his dorm room late at night to gather supplies and scope out the area around the Genovian embassy. But mainly he stayed in his room, planning and preparing.  
  
Michael had been to the Genovian embassy many, many times. They had no embassy in New York City until Princess Clarisse had decided she wanted somewhere to stay that was more dignified than a suite at the Plaza hotel. The embassy was built out on Long Island, far from the bustle and convenience of Manhattan, and Princess Clarisse ruled the grand estate like it was her own palace.   
  
When Hans had driven Mia to the embassy for princess lessons, Michael had often tagged along. He wanted to see Grandmère about as much as she wanted to see him, so usually when Mia was being quizzed on the family trees of all the other obscure European families, Michael would wander off to talk to the security people. They had video cameras and complicated computer systems, so of course a computer nerd like Michael Moscovitz would find them fascinating.   
  
Everyone in the embassy knew and liked Michael, one of the few people who could annoy the dowager princess without having to worry about losing his job, so the security guys happily showed off their toys to him. He even helped out when they had to deal with installing some updated software for their system. So Michael knew every inch of the embassy from his own explorations or from what he had watched on the security cameras, and he knew all the ins and outs of the security system in the embassy. And he knew how to access the computer security system remotely.   
  
Of course Michael knew he was going to get in a lot of trouble with Prince Phillipe and the rest of the embassy staff for hacking into the Genovian embassy's security system from his computer in his dorm room. He was very careful not to damage anything important. The few alterations he made were made to be as unobtrusive as possible. He only wanted to be able to get into the embassy on the evening of May 1st without getting caught, so that meant changing the video feed for a few of the cameras for about fifteen minutes and deactivating part of the security sensors for that time. He was giving himself only one way and no way out, but he didn't worry that far ahead. He just needed to get inside to see Mia without anyone else spotting him first.  
  
On the day of the ball, Michael wore his tuxedo and took the train out to Long Island. The embassy was about a mile from the train station. Luckily the weather was pleasant that evening, so the walk was not unbearable. Michael avoided walking beside the road in case anyone recognized him and arrived at the embassy about a half hour before his planned security hole.  
  
He knew exactly how close he could be to the embassy without triggering any alarms or appearing on any security cameras. He stood in a cluster of trees a few hundred feet away from the side entrance of the embassy and checked his watch every five minutes while he waited.   
  
Michael watched the row of cars and limos coming down the long driveway to the embassy. Mia was probably inside in the foyer with her father and grandmother. Mia's mom would also be in there somewhere, in spite of her strenuous objections to attending official Genovian functions.   
  
Mia and her family would immediately recognize him. The embassy employees would all know who he is. Plenty of the guests at the party would have seen him with Mia before. Some of the rich, powerful government people may have even seen the tabloids and the gossip columns recently.   
  
He had nearly convinced himself of the futility of his plan when it was finally 8:10. Time to begin.  
  
All the action was at the front of the house and the area closest to the ballroom. The kitchen was also busy providing a steady supply of drinks and hor d'oevres for the guests. Some guests had already wandered into the gardens on the west side of the house. Michael was entering on the east side, where the administrative offices were located. That part of the embassy had very high security because of the sensitive information the Genovian ambassador and his staff had access to, but for fifteen minutes the security system was down. Michael still very cautiously made his way to the house.   
  
The ground windows were physically locked from the inside. Michael did not want to actually break the windows in order to enter. However, the second floor windows were often opened during the day and were almost always left unlocked at night according to the computer monitors. There were security sensors outside the windows but, of course, they were off-line now. Thanks to the helpful gardeners, there was a eight-foot-tall very climbable garden trellis under the ambassador's office. Best of all, the ambassador had a balcony. That was how he was going to get in.  
  
Michael was not wearing the best shoes for climbing, and the gardeners would probably want his head when they saw the mess he was making of their climbing vines and flowers, and he really should have worked on his upper body strength at the gym for the past few months if he had known he would have to pull himself up onto the balcony, and his hair was probably getting completely messed up from how much he was sweating trying to get in. But, wonder of wonders, in less than ten minutes he had succeeded in getting up on the balcony without anyone spotting him. The east side of the building was as abandoned as he had expected. Michael did not have much time to get inside before the security system would come back online.  
  
The doors to the balcony were locked, of course, but there was a window a few feet from the balcony. Michael leaned over the side of the balcony and could just barely reach it. Thank god, it was left unlocked, just as Michael had been counting on. Michael could just barely push it open from his awkward position on the balcony. He would work out every day for the rest of his life, just in case he ever had to break into another embassy. Now the last step – how to get his exhausted body from the balcony through the window without killing himself.  
  
If Mia did not swoon in his arms after all the hell he was going through for her, he'd… well… he'd… he didn't know what he'd do. He'd get deported to some unsavory prison for embassy-trespassing criminals. But that wouldn't happen. She would see just how important she still was to him. She would understand that he would do anything for her, including breaking-and-entering. Heck, he'd suffer through princess lessons with Grandmère, too, if that was what it took. It couldn't be much harder than getting through that window into the building.  
  
And somehow he did it. He went head-first through the window and tumbled down onto a chair. Man and chair fell hard to the carpet. If anyone was anywhere close to the office, he was dead. Unfortunately, the door did open. He was caught. It was over, before he had even managed to see Mia.  
  
He reluctantly got off the floor – good, at least he hadn't broken any bones in his tumble – and then put the chair back right-side-up with its four legs on the ground. He closed the window. Then he turned around to see who had found him.  
  
Helen Thermopolis?  
  
Mia's mother was just as startled to see that Michael was the burglar she had found. "What on earth are you doing here?" she asked.   
  
At least she wasn't already calling for the police. She closed the door behind her and turned on the lights.  
  
"My… umm... invitation got lost in the mail." Michael looked at his clothes in the light and was pleased that his tuxedo had not been visibly harmed during his little adventure. His shoes were dirty from walking through the garden. Still, not bad. And Helen always liked him.  
  
She did not look particularly benevolent at that moment. She was dressed remarkably normally for the evening. She was there on her best, non-eccentric-artist behavior, but she was not familiar with the embassy like Michael was and she certainly did not feel at ease dealing with an unexpected guest. She obviously didn't even know whose office they were now standing in or why it was at all unusual that the door had been unlocked.  
  
"You're going to get in tons of trouble if anyone finds you here," she said. She would be, too. No one should have access to the ambassador's office.  
  
"I just want to see Mia."  
  
"That's sweet," she said. "And stupid. Very, very stupid. Phillippe already wants to put out a restraining order on you because of the tabloids. He'll throw you in jail if he finds you trespassing. Really. And Mia doesn't want to see you either. So don't ruin tonight for them and I'll help get you back out. I don't suppose you can just leave the way you came in?"  
  
"Um, no, not exactly."   
  
He needed to think fast and find a way to get past Helen without her blowing his cover. Helen was an artist, so she didn't think of all the security measures Michael had already by-passed to get this far. She couldn't get him out even if he would let her, but she could certainly ruin everything.  
  
Then he looked at his watch. The locks would be activated again in thirty seconds. Helen wouldn't know how to by-pass the electronic locks to get the door to open. He was going to go to hell for this, wasn't he?   
  
Fifteen more seconds. Ten. "Can you wait here a sec?" he said.   
  
Before Helen could start telling him all the reasons why she was not going to wait there, he went out of the room and closed the door. The door was solid oak. He heard the lock jiggling, but it wasn't loud enough for people in other parts of the house to hear. The knocking on the door was also not loud enough. Helen was going to kill him for this.  
  
But Michael was in the embassy. Helen must have been trying to find somewhere to hide from the party downstairs. There was no one else around the east wing. But Helen would find a way to set off the security alarms soon. He didn't have much time to find Mia.  
  
The embassy would probably have hired lots of waiters for the night. Outside people hopefully wouldn't recognize him. Michael doubted he was a huge celebrity to the normal kitchen staff, anyway. So he joined the chaotic flow of waiters going between the kitchen and ballroom. No one gave him a second look for his messy hair or his dirty shoes. Everyone was too busy.  
  
Michael came into the ballroom from a side entrance behind a guy with a tray of champagne flutes. No security guards immediately pounced on him. No one was looking for him yet. He had succeeded! Now where was Princess Amelia?  
  
There were already a few hundred people in the room. It was a black-tie affair, so the men were all in tuxedos and the women were in long ballgowns and were showing off their fabulously expensive jewelry. Most of the people for Mia's party were middle-aged and elderly people that dealt with Genovia or were friends of Princess Clarisse or Prince Phillippe.   
  
It didn't take long for Michael to pick out Mia, wearing a simple white dress that made her look younger and prettier than ever. She didn't look like she was having a particularly great time, but she didn't look like she was crying her eyes out over the misery of losing Michael. Prince Phillippe and Princess Clarisse were still by the door greeting the guests, so Mia was talking to people on her own. She smiled half-heartedly and was no doubt saying everything she ought to be saying. Was this Grandmère's idea of what a girl's eighteen birthday party should be like? None of Mia's friends from high school were there.   
  
Now was the perfect time to make his move. Michael walked swiftly through the crowds and was pleased that no one actually physically stopped him. He was dimly aware of the murmur of voices when he passed as people recognized him, but that didn't matter. He tapped Mia on the shoulder and asked her to dance. She was so shocked by his being there that she actually let him lead her to the dance floor.  
  
It should have been heavenly to have her in front of him again. She was in his arms again. He was hot and sweaty from all the exertion of getting into the ballroom, and he really would rather be taking a shower now than dancing. But she was there. And she very clearly wished he wasn't.  
  
"Who let you in?" Mia asked. She turned her head to look towards the entrance where her grandmother and father were on guard.  
  
"No one," Michael said. "I let myself in. I had to see you."  
  
"People are going to see you here."  
  
"I know, but first I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"You're going to get in trouble."  
  
"I don't care. Listen, Mia—"  
  
But it was already too late. Michael was yanked away from Mia by a pair of very strong arms. She was just as startled as he was, and actually screamed. That was enough to get everyone's attention in the ball room.  
  
This was it. This was really the climatic scene in the romantic comedy when the hero makes an ass of himself in order to show the heroine how much he loves her. Everyone was staring. The orchestra stopped playing. Dancing couples stopped in their place to look.  
  
This was really going to be Michael's last chance, so he said what he had been planning on saying to her from the beginning. But instead of being able to tell it to her while they danced, he had to practically scream it across the room while members of the Genovian national guard dragged him away.   
  
"You're Mia Thermopolis. I don't care what everyone else says about you being a princess. You're just Mia, a really cool girl I happen to love. The rest isn't important. Because I love you!"  
  
The press was there. Hundreds of important government officials saw. Michael had broken into a foreign embassy and accosted a very high-ranking foreign dignitary. He had hacked into the computerized security system and meddled with it in order to gain access to the ambassador's office. He was in trouble with the NYPD, the federal government, and the Genovian authorities.   
  
Michael spent all night in Prince Phillippe's private office under the supervision of two Genovian national guardsmen as different people came to give more details about his horrific crimes. Helen was very kind about the "mix-up" that resulted in her being locked in the ambassador's office, but Michael had certainly lost her as an ally. The ambassador gave a report on what had been disturbed in his office. Apparently some papers were blown off the desk when the window was open, and the ambassador was furious that his inner sanctum had been violated by a thoughtless kid. The gardeners were mad about their flowers, though they did admit that the damage was not irreparable.   
  
The security guys were even angrier than Prince Phillippe when they heard what Michael had done. He had done more than hack into their computers; he had taken advantage of their friendship and trust in order to get what he wanted. He did feel terrible about that, and he felt even worse when it turned out that his careful precautions for not harming the rest of the system were not as good as he had thought. It would be days before the security system was fully operational again.  
  
And Mia didn't lift a finger to help him. She did not come in and say that it was all her fault for driving Michael to such desperation. She didn't acknowledge his predicament at all. As far as Michael knew, she stayed at her party.   
  
If he had any doubts before, they were gone now. Michael and Mia were really no longer an item. He would never marry her. He would never become her prince consort. And, damn, was he in a lot of trouble.  
  
His lawyer was able to get the most serious charges dropped by pleading mental instability. Everyone knew he had taken his break-up with Mia very hard. Prince Phillippe made him sign the Agreement: Genovia would not press charges against him so long as he never approached Mia again and never, ever entered Genovia.  
  
Worst of all was the press. They had seen it all. There were pictures. And his hair was really bad in them. He became a national object of pity and ridicule. Columbia put him on psychiatric leave. Michael had violated many school rules by using Columbia's network when hacking in the Genovian computers, so he should have been thankful that he was not thrown out.  
  
The more people told him he was crazy, the more he was beginning to suspect they were right. He couldn't live like that. So Michael disappeared and eventually became someone else: Mikey M, the rock star.   
  
****  
  
A car was sent to his apartment at noon so he could go to the studio for another rehearsal. Mikey M took his guitar and went down to the lobby. The concierge kept unauthorized people outside the building, but there was still the walk from the building to the car that was left unprotected. How many reporters would be there today?   
  
He should be used to being constantly on display. In the beginning Mikey M used to even enjoy the attention. The press wanted more access to his band and they wanted more press coverage, so they could use each other to help their careers. Now that Mikey M and Piaget's Children had too much press coverage, Mikey M couldn't completely turn his back on his old allies. The music and entertainment magazines had help solidify his dominance over the music world. He really would sit down and give a good, friendly interview with someone he liked at Rolling Stone as soon as this Genovia gossip went away. Until then, though, he didn't want to see a camera or a tape reporter.   
  
Mikey M put on his dark sunglasses and went out. And then the reporters appeared.   
  
"Mikey M! Look here!" Yes, the photographers were all there, too.  
  
"When are you going back to Genovia?"  
  
"Do you have any special message to the Prince of Genovia?"  
  
"Is it true that you and Prince René grew up together?"  
  
"Will you ever reveal why you are banned from Genovia?"  
  
There must have been a dozen reporters there. People walking on the street stopped to gawk. Wasn't one of the big advantages of living in Primrose Hill supposed to be how everyone was young, hip, and famous, and therefore he could leave his apartment without it being considered an event of international importance? Damn reporters. Damn neighbors. Damn tourists. Damn Genovia. Damn them all.  
  
"I don't want to go to Genovia, so I don't care that I can't," Mikey M said. The reporters actually looked surprised by the harshness of his voice. He was usually very distant and blandly sarcastic with the press, but, damn it, why wouldn't they shut up about Genovia?   
  
He should shut up himself, but now that he was actually telling them what he thought, he couldn't stop himself. "I don't see why any of you care about Genovia. What's in that country? Nothing special. I'm not telling you why I hate them, and they're not going to tell you why they hate me. But we're being completely honest with you guys. We truly do hate each other. Prince Phillippe wants me in jail. I want them to all be swept away in another flood. End of story."  
  
It isn't often Mikey M could really surprise his press followers into silence. They had merely expected him to glare at them and to mutter something about how it was none of their business. He took advantage of their confusion by disappearing into the car. Jen was waiting for him inside. She was talking on her cell phone, but she put it away from her when Mikey M came in.   
  
"What did you tell them out there?" she asked. "They seem too excited."  
  
"I said 'No comment', like I always do so you can make all my statements for me."  
  
"No you didn't," Jen grumbled. She didn't like the idea that he had said something without telling her and getting her approval. And she was also dying to know more about the Genovia situation, so she would want to know what Mikey M had said.   
  
Just to show how much she didn't like his answer, Jen returned to her conversation on her phone. "Yes, Mikey M just came in. … I told you, that's no good. He's not going to like that. Right, Mikey M?" He obediently nodded without asking what the proposal was. She smiled and said, "He hates it. … Yes, I did tell him what the plan was. And he hated it. … No, you can't talk to him. And it's 'Mikey M', not 'Michael'." Who was Jen talking to? "… We are very, very busy. … No, not even dinner. …" Usually Jen would just hang up on people trying too hard for interviews.   
  
"Who is it?" Mikey M asked.  
  
Jen put the phone down and said, "You're not going to like this. It's Ted Kuzmin from Genovia. He says Princess Amelia wants to meet with you. Don't worry, I'll get you out of this."  
  
Mikey M was done with Genovia. It was all over. He did not need to see Mia again. What would her father say if he knew Mia was trying to contact him? Better yet, what would her grandmother say?  
  
"Tell them we'll tell Prince Phillippe and Princess Clarisse what Amelia is requesting," he said. "I bet she's trying to go behind the prince's back."  
  
Jen nodded and delivered the message to Ted. And that closed the discussion, just as he had thought. Jen put her phone away and said, "How did you know that?"  
  
Mikey M looked out the window. "I just did. I won't see her if she comes."  
  
Why should Mia want to see him again now, after all that had happened? She had let him get dragged out of the ballroom seven years ago, and last week she had stood outside his dressing room in Genovia and watched as her father sent the Genovian national guard after him.  
  
"I don't like Genovia," he said. "So let's all forget about it and let me do my real work. Music. Remember?"  
  
But he knew that the Genovia problem was not going to go away on its own. 


	6. Peace Treaty

Chapter 6 – Peace Treaty  
  
The nice thing about being the princess of a very small country was that Mia could easily travel incognito. So long as she did not ride around in the limo with the little Genovian flags in front and the diplomatic license plates, and if she did not wear a tiara and carry a specter, and if she didn't stop by Buckingham Palace to say hi to her friends the Windsors, no one would think that she was anyone special.  
  
Mia left Ted and Francine at the Genovian embassy, and she took a taxi cab to Michael's apartment building in London's West End. François paid the fare and followed her out. A cluster of smoking journalists were staked out near the building's entrance, but they did not pay any attention to Mia. To them she was just an unfamiliar well-dressed woman arriving home after a day of work. Good. Mia didn't want Michael to know she was coming.   
  
But then the doorman would not her even into the lobby. "Sorry, miss, but this is a private residence. Are you expected?"  
  
Mia smiled what she hoped was her most friendly, credible smile, and said, "Yes."   
  
Of course a big star like Mikey M would live somewhere with rigorous security to keep intruding princesses out. Why didn't she think of this before? The doorman took out a handheld radio and asked, "Who are you visiting?"  
  
Maybe there was an advantage to traveling in the Genovian embassy limo with all the flags. She never had trouble getting permission to enter apartment buildings when she was an official guest of the British royal family. She gestured towards the press and said in her most royal whisper, "Can we talk about all this when I'm inside? I don't want to give anyone time to recognize me. I am Princess Amelia Renaldo of Genovia, and this is my bodyguard François."  
  
They still knew how to treat royalty in England. The doorman immediately let her in, assuring her that he would keep her identity from the reporters and saying it was a great honor to meet her. At least she did not have to produce her passport and driver's license to prove her royal blood.  
  
Having conquered the first obstacle to getting to see Michael Moscovitz, Mia was ready to face the concierge. Everyone who knew Michael had to know about his feud with the royal family of Genovia, so her presence there would not be surprising. Of course they'd let her see him. She walked up to the front desk and said, "Would you please tell Mikey M that Princess Amelia Renaldo of Genovia is here to see him."  
  
The concierge was not as accommodating as the doorman. He did not look at all awed or impressed to be in the presence of royalty. He simply said, "He isn't home. And he does not accept visitors at his flat."  
  
Michael wasn't home? Mia had made Ted call the studio to see whether Michael was there, but they had said that he had already left over an hour ago. But he was Mikey M, after all. He probably was out to an early dinner with Veronica Märkl or some other beautiful woman. Who knows when he would be home.  
  
She would not let Michael come in and see her waiting for him. She didn't want to look like she was desperately chasing after him, after all this time. She would go back to the embassy and try again later. But what if he came back now and saw her leaving? Would it look like she was too much of a snob to wait a few minutes for him? Francine would know the correct thing to do. Mia took out her cell phone and called her.   
  
"He's-not-here-and-there's-lots-of-reporters-outside," Mia said all in one breath. "What should I do?"  
  
"Calm down. Where are you? His place?"  
  
"The lobby of his apartment building. What do I do now? Leave?" The more Mia thought about having to wait in the lobby with the unfriendly concierge and all the reporters waiting outside, the less she wanted to stay. She should have gotten Ted to talk more to Michael's publicist and gotten a real appointment set up. This was a terrible idea.  
  
"The reporters didn't recognize you, did they?" Francine asked.  
  
"No. I don't think so. I should leave and come back later. I'll leave a message, and we'll call ahead next time. Yeah, I should go."  
  
"No, stay there. Wait for him. You came all the way to London just to talk to him. Ted's here now and he agrees. He says you're not to run away. All right? Listen to us, Mia. Don't leave."  
  
"I'll go back to the embassy. We'll talk and think of a new way to get to talk to him."  
  
"No, Mia! Stay there!"  
  
Mia hung up on her trusted lady-in-waiting and felt much more confident in her decision to run away like a scared little girl. She wasn't ready to see Michael again. This was a terrible idea.   
  
But before she could compose an acceptable message to leave with the concierge, the front door opened – Michael was back! But no, it wasn't Michael Moscovitz. Michael Moscovitz was a cute, smart, rich kid from the Upper East Side whose idea of adventure was throwing vegetables out windows. He was goofy, sweet, and loveable. Mia had known him since she was six years old. The man carrying a guitar case who was now walking up to them was a stranger. Mikey M.  
  
Mia had only seen him from a distance in Genovia. Up close, she could better see how the years had changed him. He must work out now; he had the lean, athletic build of a man who could take care of himself in the world. He was dressed casually for a day spent at the music studio, so he was wearing a pair of old jeans just tight enough to hint at the amazing body he no doubt had and a black silk button-down long-sleeve shirt, probably hand-tailored and very expensive. He was cleanly shaven, but his mop of dark curly hair was left sticking up and flopping down in every direction. And, of course, he was wearing his trademark dark sunglasses, safely hiding those familiar light brown eyes that Mia used to adore. Michael Moscovitz would never go out in public in such a bold mishmash of style. Mikey M did, and he looked great.   
  
And now it was up to Mia to talk to this stranger and hope he didn't really hate her as much as the press made it sound like he did. She had expected to be dealing with her old boyfriend Michael Moscovitz. She knew Michael. Now confronted with him again, it was no surprise to her that she had gone for so long without recognizing him. He was someone completely different now, and who knew how reasonable he would be when he heard what she had to say.  
  
He nodded to the concierge and said a cool "Hey" to François. Then he looked at her. She wished he would take off those sunglasses. He certainly wasn't overflowing with delight at seeing her again. After too long a pause, he finally said, "I was wondering when you were going to show up."  
  
Was that a good or bad sign? Mia decided to interpret it as a gesture of goodwill, so she smiled too broadly and said, "If I had known you were expecting me, I would have called first. But I didn't have to wait long."  
  
That did not win a smile from Mikey M or any movement that could be mistaken as friendly. Mia noticed that the top of his ears were safely covered by his messy hair. How else could she judge what his intentions were?  
  
He said to François, "Could you call the princess a cab? She won't be staying long."  
  
He couldn't send her away! Mia said, "We have to talk, Michael. This is all getting crazy."  
  
"It's Mikey M."  
  
That could not possibly be a good sign. He wouldn't even let her call him by his real name, at least not in front of the concierge. He probably wouldn't let her call him "Michael" even if they were the only ones in the room. François looked to Mia to see what her orders were, but he did dutifully take out his phone as the first step to following Mikey M's instructions for calling the cab. Michael always was good at bossing people around. But no musician was going to tell the princess of Genovia what to do. Part of her would love to have an excuse to leave at once, but she knew she was going to stay, whether Michael wanted her to or not.   
  
"We're not going to have our conversation here in the lobby, if that's what you think. If you want me to leave, you're coming, too." Mia would never match her grandmother's way of giving royal orders, but she could sound imperial when the need arose.   
  
Of course Mikey M was not going to graciously agree to accompany her to some private location so they could have a cordial conversation about the awkward situation they were now in. He wasn't going to cooperate at all. "You are trying to avoid the media, aren't you? If I go with you out that door, the press will only get worse. You can leave by the back entrance."  
  
"We can all leave by the back."  
  
"I leave by the front. Always."   
  
Mia didn't ask him to explain. If the press knew he would always leave by the front door, they would stay out front when waiting for him and the other residents and visitors could use the back door without worrying about being seen and photographed. She had spent most of her adult life with worries about the media lingering in the background, so she understood why Michael would be concerned about its effect on the lives of his neighbors.  
  
"Before you suggest that I go out by the front, you go through the back, and we regroup somewhere else, let me tell you that I will be followed by someone. I always am. So it won't work. Talk to Jen if you want an appointment. I'm busy."  
  
Mia had never been treated so inconsequentially in her life. Well, she had in her pre-princess days, but these days she was used to being treated with some degree of respect. Michael Moscovitz always used to treat everyone politely. Even Mikey M was reported to have a good relationship with his fans and the press. He didn't go out of his way to be mean to people.   
  
So that must mean that the papers were right. He really did hate her.  
  
"Fine, you don't want to talk to me. Well, maybe I don't want to talk to you either, but I have to. I'd rather not talk about everything here in front of the concierge, the doorman, and whoever decides to come and go right now, but I will if you're going to be so … annoying. Just take us to your apartment so we can talk instead of stand here and argue all day. But I will argue all day and all night if you won't listen."  
  
She was getting frustrated, and she was starting to get scared. She had no idea how Mikey M would react. What if he really did refuse to listen to her? What if he decided to make things even more difficult for Genovia and her? And why wouldn't he remove his sunglasses? Who wore sunglasses indoors?  
  
"No one goes up to my apartment," Mikey M began to say, but then he changed his mind and said, "But since this is a very special occasion, I'll make an exception."  
  
Mia should have been satisfied with the minor victory of being granted a private interview with him, but as she followed him into the elevator, she wished she had run away when she had had the chance. At least she had François there for support, and for backup in case things turned really nasty.  
  
No one said a word as they ascended four floors in the small elevator, Mia on François's left and Mikey M on his right. The elevator doors finally opened onto a large, nearly empty space taking up almost the entire floor.  
  
"Welcome to my apartment," Mikey M said and walked out of the elevator.   
  
He lived there? There was a piano, drum set, and a half dozen guitars in one corner. In another corner was an office chair and a card table with some assorted papers and books on it. There were two closed doors, presumably to the bathroom and to his bedroom. There was nothing on the white walls. The floors were all hardwood and sparklingly clean. No kitchen, not even a refrigerator. The only things that looked personal were the guitars.  
  
"Umm… it's … very big," Mia said. The apartment was so large and empty that her voice echoed. It had to be the least comfortable-looking place she had ever seen. It was not possible to look at the apartment without feeling that whoever lived there had to be a very intensely lonely individual.  
  
Mikey M looked around the room and said, "It's a place to sleep."  
  
"So … did you move in recently?" Mia asked. Maybe he had more furniture he needed to move in.  
  
"Two years ago."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Mikey M walked across the room to the piano, put down his guitar case, and brought the piano bench over to the card table. Then he went into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Mia looked at François and saw that her usually imperturbable bodyguard was just as baffled as she was. They were both standing outside the closed elevator doors.  
  
"Um… I guess we might as well … sit down," she said.  
  
"Yeah," François said.   
  
They still stayed where they were until Mikey M reappeared, finally no longer wearing his sunglasses and his hair not quite as chaotic as before. Without the sunglasses Mia could better recognize his facial features as being those of Michael Moscovitz, but he still was on the other side of the room and still too distant to be more than vaguely familiar.  
  
"Sit down, both of you." He gestured towards the card table and leaned against the wall, at least ten feet away from the chairs. He certainly wasn't going out of his way to be friendly. His two guests rather reluctantly walked across the vast, empty apartment to sit at the table. And so the conversation could begin.  
  
Mia took a deep breath and said, "Well, I bet you know why we're here."  
  
"The gossip," he said coolly.   
  
He was looking out the window over her head as he spoke, thereby avoiding making any eye contact with her. Did he hate her too much to want to even look at her, or could he be nervous, too? Mia was more nervous now than she had ever been in her entire life, but she had been trained for high pressure situations like this. So she made herself continue to look straight at him and try to hide how scared she was.  
  
"Yeah, the gossip. It's not good for Genovia. If we don't get it to stop, Grandmère says she's going to tell everyone the truth."   
  
"Then she'd have to say that you guys lost track of me over the years and then let me into Genovia for your birthday. And I got away again. Your security will look like a joke."   
  
"She's going to blame Lars. Dad already fired him. So that's the problem. I won't let them do that to him. Or to you, I mean, it's your life and if you don't want people to know your name—"  
  
"Save it."   
  
Mikey M was still looking out the window, but he was now thinking. Mia recognized that look of concentration from years ago. He understood the situation, and now he was going to think of a way out of it. But now Mia didn't know what sort of thing to expect from him when he formed his plans. Would he be only concerned about saving his own secrets? Did he still care about Lars, even after the Genovian security authorities had gotten him into so much trouble seven years ago? Did he care at all about Genovia?  
  
He finally looked at Mia and said, "Fine, I'll handle this." A plan had been made, and he obviously thought it was a good one. He then asked the improbable question, "Do you have plans for tonight?"  
  
"Umm … no."   
  
"Good. Can you find a date around here?"  
  
"A date?"  
  
"Yes. We'll all go out to dinner, me and my date with you and your date. We'll do something very public to show that we're not killing each other. We'll be so boring that we'll kill the gossip. I'll arrange the publicity. The right people will hear about it. Maybe a picture could turn up somewhere."   
  
He spoke calmly, but he now paced around the area by the card table, finally coming closer to where Mia was sitting. He was going to help. He even looked excited about the plan. For a moment he almost even looked like the Michael Mia remembered. Her grandmother and father would probably be furious when they saw that she had secretly gone to London to meet with Michael and allowed herself to be seen with him, but it would be worth it if the gossip really did go away.  
  
"Why do we need to bring dates?" she asked.   
  
"It looks better this way," he said quickly. Then Mia understood why. He didn't want to spend an evening alone with her pretending that it was a friendly dinner, and he didn't want anyone thinking that they were romantically involved. More people invited meant more of a buffer between them.  
  
A buffer sounded like an excellent idea. She said, "Let me bring along Ted and Francine, too."  
  
"Fine. Then I'll add Jen and Felix."  
  
"And François, of course."  
  
"Of course. I don't take my security around London, so your François will have to make certain no terrorists kidnap me or my date, either."  
  
"Veronica?"  
  
"No, Veronica is back in LA by now."   
  
For a man who had recently split up with his latest female companion, he seemed remarkably OK about it. Mia couldn't help herself from asking, "Then who?"  
  
"I haven't decided yet. So there's nine of us. Fine. I'll make the reservations. I'll see that it all works out. Jen will be in touch with your Ted within the hour."  
  
So it was settled. Mia and François were dismissed from his near-empty apartment and were sent away in a cab waiting for them at the back entrance. Mia went back to the embassy and now had to wait for Mikey M's publicist to call.   
  
Michael Moscovitz was gone forever, and she did not know what she thought of Mikey M. Was he an enemy or an ally? Unfortunately she didn't have much of a choice: she would have to trust him tonight.  
  
*******  
  
The world-famous Savoy Grill was filled with the pre-show theater crowd, all dressed elegantly and dining expensively. In the center of the room, clearly visible by everyone – including a few well-known sources for some of the biggest gossip columns – was Mikey M's table.   
  
He was doing this for Lars and for himself. Not for Mia. And certainly not because he wanted to spend a minute longer in Mia's presence. Her appearance at his apartment that afternoon had been more than enough for him. She made him … nervous. Unsettled. Unhappy. Uneasy. He would help her tonight and then send her back to Genovia, and he would never have to see her again.  
  
Juliette Boulez, the French ex-model and now successful fashion designer, was his date. She was physically without fault, almost intimidatingly beautiful, and she glided through her surroundings with chilly grace and complete apathy towards all affairs that did not directly affect her. So she accepted that they were dining with the princess of Genovia without asking a single question about it. Juliette had merely asked how long she had to get ready, and she appeared on time in a sparkling, near-translucent blue dress that everyone had to turn around and star at. It was one of her designs, of course, and showed off all her best assets. She loved the attention, and hardly noticed when Mia and her entourage appeared.  
  
On the other hand, Mikey M certainly noticed. He also saw that other people turned around and watched the princess of Genovia sit down with the Genovian fugitive Mikey M. He smiled and hoped that he looked adequately delighted to see Mia. He did not need to look too happy to see her; the last thing they needed was gossip romantically linking them together. But he could fake being her friend for one evening, right?  
  
"Sorry we're late," Mia said to everyone at the table, not directly at him but at the same time not avoiding him. She was dressed in a simple black dress that was so conservative that any respectable grandmother would not blush to wear it. Did she have no idea how to dress interestingly, or did she actually choose to look dowdy? She was still pretty, as always, with her short blonde curly hair and striking gray eyes, but she was nothing compared to the luminous Juliette Boulez.   
  
Once Mikey M was assured that his date would outshine everyone else present, he looked to see who Mia had brought along as her date. The only men with her were François the bodyguard, Ted Kuzmin the lackey, and an older gentleman. François was there on bodyguard duty, already looking around at the various exits and evaluating possible defensive positions to take if the dining room at the Savoy came under attack by foreign terrorists. The elderly man was introduced as Count Frivati, the Genovian ambassador to England. Out of the three men, the only one close enough to Mia's age to be a potential date was … Ted. Mikey M never liked the guy, but Mia couldn't actually … no… She had too high of standards for that. Right?  
  
But Mikey M would not allow his guests to suspect that he was giving so much thought to Princess Amelia's love life. All of Mia's entourage appeared to understand the intention of the evening. They were loudly polite and effusive in their thanks for the invitation to join Mikey M and his friends for dinner. Mia sat down across from him and even dared to smile at him directly.  
  
"Amelia, allow me to introduce my date, Juliette Boulez," he said, acting his part with utmost politeness.  
  
The mention of her own name was enough to get Juliette's attention. She smiled radiantly and said, "We have not met, have we? I know your cousin René. He is a scoundrel, but I forgive him. Tell me who designs your clothes. He should be shot."  
  
The other people at the table were absorbed in their own small talk, so Mia was left alone to keep up her side of the conversation. She looked baffled by Juliette's remarks and finally said, "Your dress is lovely."  
  
"Of course it is," Juliette said, "I designed it for myself. I could make you one like it. We are the same height, no? I'd take in the bust, of course, maybe add straps –"  
  
Mikey M did his best not to laugh out loud as Mia blushed, and he tried to curtail Juliette's commentary on how the dress would have to be altered to suit Mia's figure. Francine interrupted her conversation with Felix to come to her princess's aid and ask Juliette about her acquaintance with Prince René. Mia's bra size was probably a more appropriate conversation topic than the details of Juliette's fling with René, which she now freely discussed at a loud volume in the crowded dining room. Maybe Juliette had not been the wisest choice of a date for the evening.  
  
Mia sat with perfect posture in her chair, looking elegant, poised, and regal. She never hesitated in choosing the correct utensil to use when each course came out. She easily could speak with everyone at the table, though she avoided talking directly to Mikey M when possible. She was perfectly behaved, a perfect diplomat, a perfect princess in a boring dress. She had matured a lot in the last seven years.   
  
During a lull in conversation, Mia said in a slightly too loud voice, "It was very kind of you to think of inviting us tonight, Mikey."  
  
So it was time for their great performance for the sake of their guests and the other people in the dining room. "I'm glad you don't take the newspapers too seriously. Otherwise you'd think I hated you so much that I'd be slipping cyanide into your wine glass."  
  
"Well, I did bring François along." The others at the table politely laughed, but Mikey M did not. She looked remarkably harmless now. How could she have made him suffer so much seven years ago? And why should she still be complicating his life? It was time they really did make their peace and move on with their lives.   
  
"So no hard feelings, right?" he said, hoping that his words sounded more casual than they really were to him.   
  
She shook her head. "Of course not. Things have been crazy for, well, everyone. It's too bad that the press got involved in our … our little disagreements."  
  
Mikey M wanted to object to the word choice – "little disagreements"? He was the one who had to drop out of college and get his name changed because of their "little" disagreement. But Mia was right. They should downplay the entire matter and publicly and privately put it behind them.   
  
"Good, I was hoping you two would stop fighting. People were always asking questions about that when I wanted to talk about fishing rights," Count Frivati said. At least Mikey M could be assured that the ambassador did not know the entire story between Mia and him.   
  
The count lifted his wine glass and said, "May I propose a toast? To peace. May we Genovians never make such a powerful enemy again." He winked at Mikey M, and Mikey M laughed along with everyone else.   
  
He drank with the others, then said, "Could I propose a toast of my own? To Genovia, with my most sincere apologies for any inconvenience I may have caused, past and present."  
  
"To Genovia," everyone repeated, including Mia. She looked across the table at Mikey M and smiled weakly. Perhaps that meant that she accepted his apology. He never wanted to hurt her. Not really. Not anymore. But he would still feel much better when Mia was back where she belonged in Genovia and far from where he was.  
  
Now that everyone in the restaurant had witnessed how well they got along, they could dedicate themselves to their meal. Mikey M watched Mia to see how a true princess would behave under these unusual circumstances. She let Ted order for her, and she let Francine help guide along her conversations when needed. She let other people prepare everything for her, and she smiled at all the different waiters who came by.   
  
The Genovian ambassador told stories about his prior assignments in exotic locales around the world. Felix really was curious about Genovian fishing rights. Juliette wanted to know more about the "atrocities" committed by Genovian fashion designers. Mikey M hardly had to say a word. He watched his friends and Mia and her companions, and he made certain the food kept coming and everyone was content. Before long the amiable nature of the dinner party was no longer a show for the press; everyone really was getting along well.   
  
As far as Mikey M could tell, he was the only one not pleased to be there. He still wished he could be back in his quiet apartment, far from all these people and far from Princess Amelia. She was too familiar and … too nice. He felt like if he wasn't careful, he would let himself forget how much he hated her.   
  
Oh hell, he didn't really hate her. It was much easier to hate someone when she was not sitting across the table, making jokes with the Genovian ambassador about the inferiority of the olive oil used in the main course compared to genuine Genovian olive oil.   
  
Confronted with Mia Thermopolis again, he simply … He didn't know what he felt about her. He didn't think he could ever like her very much again after all that had happened between them, but she was still somehow important to him.   
  
The gossip columns appearing the next day did not disappoint. "Peace Treaty at the Savoy." Best of all, half the coverage was about Mikey M and Juliette Boulez, leaving the Genovia mess as more of a side-note. Then a high-profile celebrity couple filed for divorce. So it was official. The fight between Mikey M and Genovia was old news, and life could go back to normal for them.  
  
But things were different now. After all this time, Mikey M and Princess Amelia were finally able to speak to each other again. He knew that she was bad news for him, but he also knew that he was not going to be able to forget her. Not any time soon.   
  
------------  
  
(Author's note: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. School has begun again, so that means less time to write. But, well, I'm not giving up on poor Mia and Michael. Thanks for reading my story!) 


	7. Old Friends, pt 1

(Author's Note: I like planning out long chapters, but I don't have enough time to write long chapters these days. So I'm going to try to post about half a chapter at a time. OK? Otherwise there'd be even longer gaps between posts. Part 2 of Chapter 7 should be done hopefully in about a week. Thanks for reading!)   
  
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Chapter 7 – Old Friends, pt 1  
  
The big news at the end of June was Prince William. Of course Prince William was always in the news in England, even more than Mikey M, but he wasn't getting attention this time for mildly misbehaving in exotic locales or for appearing at boring functions with beautiful socialites. June 21st was his birthday, and everyone important was going to his party.  
  
Mikey M had refused to let the band play for the event; they were no longer "on tour", so they would have to disrupt the development of their next album if they stopped everything to prepare for a show. Besides, he had had enough of dealing with princes and princesses to last a lifetime. But that didn't mean Mikey M would refuse his invitation to the very exclusive birthday party. The press would be there, so as a major media figure he was practically obligated to make an appearance.   
  
"But if they keep on hinting that they want me to write the guy a song, tell them I'm not coming," Mikey M had instructed Jen.   
  
Ever since he wrote that song for Mia's birthday, everyone seemed to think he was taking requests. He had plenty of inspiration for his music without having soccer players talking about how great it would be if he could mention them on Piaget's Children's next album.   
  
Their last album had been such a commercial and critical success that Mikey M felt an intense pressure to make the next one even better. People expected good things from Piaget's Children, but he was going to surprise everyone with just how great they would be. He was going to keep on going, keep on making the music he wanted to make, and keep his place as the top musician in the world. And he'd make tons of money in the process.  
  
But for one night he would be just another celebrity going to Prince William's birthday party. He didn't have time to bother about who would be the most appropriate date to take. He actually hadn't been out with a woman in weeks. He was too busy working. He gave a few interviews, but he was keeping a low profile in the media lately. Actually, ever since the Genovia business died down, he had been keeping to himself.  
  
"You want to go alone?" Jen asked. "Don't be ridiculous, Mikey. You never go to these sorts of things alone."  
  
"I won't be alone. I am going with Felix, Angus, Ansel, and Jim."  
  
But when the members of Piaget's Children were all walking to the front entrance of Buckingham Palace, with all the reporters hollering questions and photographers blinding them with their flashes, Mikey M wished he had not been so stubborn about not bringing anyone with him. His lack of a date was just as shocking as if he turned up with a half dozen Veronica Märkls and Juliette Boulezes.  
  
"Where's Veronica?" "Where's Denise?" "Where's Charlotte?" "Where's Aimee?" He didn't even know some of the names they now interrogated him about. When he was not out in public going out with different women, the press assumed he was conducting his love affairs in private.  
  
"Sorry," he said, "I'm just here with my friends." He nodded towards his band mates. They were used to being ignored by the press when Mikey M was around, but they still happily smiled and posed for pictures with Mikey M.  
  
This was not their first visit to Buckingham Palace. Piaget's Children did not play for private parties – with that one exception in Genovia – but they had made other social appearances at the palace for different events. Mikey M imagined that the queen and Prince Charles must recognize his face by now, even if they had to be informed every time they met that he had a little band named after a child psychologist. ("Oh, isn't that clever?" the Prince of Wales had said on two separate occasions when he heard their band's name.)  
  
So the gathering at the palace ballroom was not at all intimidating to Mikey M and his friends. The guests had naturally divided themselves into boring government people, like the Prime Minister, cabinet members, and ambassadors, and the young, hip, and famous guests specially invited by Prince William.   
  
Of course Mikey M had to think of Mia's birthday party nearly two months ago. She had had many more stodgy government types. Some of the flashier young royals had made an appearance in Genovia in May in order to see Piaget's Children, but Prince William had more than just people with titles and power. He had actors and actresses, rock stars, writers, models – the biggest celebrities in England were there. Most of them had probably never heard of Genovia and Princess Amelia.  
  
Mikey M was cordially greeted by his hosts ("So glad you could come," Prince Charles had said without the faintest glimmer of recognition. Wills had enthusiastically shaken his hand and said, "Excellent! You came. But are you sure you won't play for us?") and then he went to his side of the room. The cool side.  
  
He knew nearly everyone there, and those he did not know recognized him. So he stayed away from the cabinet ministers and talked to people he liked about the work he was doing. He had been there an hour before he realized that, way over on the boring side of the room, was Princess Amelia.   
  
"Hey, isn't that Mia?" Jim asked at the same time that Mikey M had spotted her. "She's looking over here, isn't she? We'd better go over and say hi."  
  
Mia was standing among a crowd of well-dressed, young nobodies. Maybe they were junior diplomats. Or maybe they were the future monarchs of other European countries. In any case, Mia looked like she was dying of boredom. And Jim was right, she was looking over at them. OK, so she was looking at Mikey M. That could be the only reason for her cold glare. She was wearing another awful outfit, this time a grey long, demure dress. Were there Amish in Genovia?  
  
Jim went off to gather their other band mates to see their good friend, Princess Amelia. So this was the perfect time for Mikey M to go over there and talk to her first, before the others got there.   
  
He should have known she would come. Wills went to her birthday party, after all. But everyone kept saying that all the famous people in England would be at Prince William's party. She was supposed to stay in Genovia. He wished she would stay there, so they could avoid situations like the one they were currently in.  
  
If Mikey M didn't say anything to her, people may think that he still carried a grudge against Genovia. But with the history that existed between Mia and him, there was nothing he could say to her without making both of them feel awkward. He couldn't pretend that they were mere acquaintances meeting again at a party, but he couldn't possibly show how well they did know each other.   
  
He was still debating the best course of action when Prince René walked up to him. René was rightfully mingling in the young, cool side of the room, even if he was an exiled head of state. He was much more concerned with parties than politics. René usually stayed around Genovia and France, whereas Mikey M stayed in London, so they had never actually been introduced since back when Mikey M was Michael Moscovitz and René was just Mia's wild cousin.   
  
Prince René looked him over and said in French, "I've been told that I know you. It was in the tabloids."  
  
Mikey M smiled. He didn't know how to treat Mia, but he could handle Prince René. It was impossible to feel intimidated by the misbehaving, deposed Italian prince. Prince Phillipe would never trust René with any important secrets, such as the fact that Mikey M was Mia's crazy ex-boyfriend Michael Moscovitz, since René loved to talk too much, especially when he was drinking. And René looked like he had already been doing a lot of drinking that evening.  
  
"Yes, we've met," Mikey M said, also in French. "It was a long time ago." There was no chance that Prince René was going to make the connection between Mikey M and Michael Moscovitz, especially at his current state of inebriation, so Mikey M didn't have to worry about lying.  
  
"Wonderful!" René patted him on the back and said, "We were great friends, I am sure of it. In school, right? That's what the paper said. You and me together, I bet we got all the women. Right? Let me get you a drink. A drink for my old friend Mikey!"  
  
The wait staff at Buckingham Palace must have been used to taking drink orders in foreign languages. A waiter instantly appeared with a tray of champagne flutes.   
  
"You'd think the Windsors wouldn't use such small glasses. They aren't this stingy in private, believe me," René said. He took two, handed both to Mikey M, then took two for himself. He raised one of his flutes and said, "A toast. To friendship."   
  
Without waiting for Mikey M, René drank the entire glass of champagne at once. To be polite, Mikey did the same. He had no doubt that René could drink him under the table, but he could stand a little champagne.  
  
René raised the second glass. "What should we drink to now? Genovia? No, you don't like Genovia. Phillipe can be a real bastard, let me tell you. Clarisse loves me, but that's because she still thinks I'm going to marry Mia. You know Mia, right? Yes, you were at her party."  
  
"I know Mia."   
  
Mikey M looked around the room to see where she was now, and to see whether she had noticed who he was talking to. Grandmère still thought that Mia and René would end up together? There was no way Mia would agree, right? She had Ted, after all. Right? Anyway, Mia was way too straight-laced these days to actually marry a fun hedonist like Prince René. Right?  
  
Mia was still surrounded by the young men and women in suits, the young diplomats or the future kings of Liechtenstein. And yes, she was glancing in his direction every now and then, and she looked a bit confused and maybe a bit worried to see René and him talking. Not that it mattered what Mia thought of what he was doing.  
  
René drank his second glass of champagne, and exchanged the two empty flutes with two filled ones. Mikey M just gave up his one empty glass and hoped René would not think of more toasts.  
  
"We haven't seen each other in years, right?" René asked. "Then you must be confused about Mia. She's become completely boring, don't you think?"  
  
This was probably not a safe conversation for them to have in the middle of the ballroom in Buckingham Palace, surrounded by mobs of people, many of whom no doubt understood French and would be curious to hear what Prince René and Mikey M were talking about.  
  
"I haven't seen her much recently," he said simply. Of course he wanted to know why Prince René thought that Mia was different, but he couldn't possibly ask.  
  
"Then let me tell you, Princess Amelia Renaldo is boring now. She's been turning more boring every year since she moved to Genovia. Five years from now she'll be wearing potato sacks and not saying a word in public. It's because of the Genovians."  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"You don't know the story? We must have been good friends when we were very young, right? We must catch up on old times. I'll tell you about Mia. You tell me about your records. Come to Miragnac and we will talk."   
  
René was drunk, but the invitation was sincere. Mikey M actually wanted to accept it. René would tell him the truth about Mia, even if he did figure out they had never been "good friends" at school together. Mikey was allowed to still be curious about Mia, right? She used to be very special to him, and she still seemed like a … nice girl. And René was right. Mia had become too serious, and Mikey M wanted to know why.  
  
But he couldn't possibly accept. Miragnac was right across the French border from Genovia, and more trouble could arise if Prince Phillipe heard that Mikey M was there. Besides, he was too busy working on Piaget's Children's next album. He couldn't run off to France so he could hear stories about his ex-girlfriend.  
  
"I'm stuck in London for the next month or two," Mikey M said. "We working men can't skip out of the country when there's music to be made."  
  
"You are afraid of my cousins in Genovia, right?" Maybe René wasn't as drunk as Mikey M had thought. "They don't care what I do. They never come to Miragnac. The papers have said that you've been to my parties twice last month. Phillipe didn't say a word."  
  
Probably because Prince Phillipe had Mikey M tracked by so many spies that he knew that the reports were lies. Then again, if Mikey M stayed in France, there wasn't a thing that Prince Phillipe would be able to do. There would be no reason for Grandmère to get angry enough to reveal his true identity, and there would be no reason to break the fragile truce between Mia and him.   
  
Mikey M would show Prince Phillipe that he was going to honor their agreement about his never going to Genovia, but he was not going to be scared away from the French border. He would let the world see that he was not afraid of Genovia, and he would have fun. And he really did want to hear what René could tell him about Mia.  
  
"Fine, next weekend," Mikey M said. "My people will call you. I'll bring the guys."  
  
"Wonderful!" He raised one of his champage flutes and said, "We'll drink to next weekend. There will be a big party. See these people? Lots of them will be there. Many beautiful women. And I'll tell you about my cousin."  
  
After tossing back another glass of champagne, René went off to immediately start inviting people to the party at Miragnac next weekend. Mikey M looked back at Mia and saw that Jim and the others were talking to her. Good, at least he didn't have to go over to talk to her with all their friends. He would have made her feel nervous, and now, for the first time in the evening, he saw her laugh. She didn't look nearly so dull and serious when she was laughing.  
  
Mikey M waited until much later in the evening, when the first guests were leaving, before he finally decided to speak with her. He ventured into the boring side of the room, attracting stares from all the diplomats and government officials, and found her looking tired and bored on the edge of a group of people talking about EU expansion. She looked startled to see him there.   
  
"I didn't realize you were friends with the Windsors," she said.  
  
"We appear to have some mutual friends," he said. "It's been a while since I've seen you."  
  
"I've been in Genovia."   
  
She was not in a very conversational mood. She would probably love for Mikey M to go away and not say another word to her, but he was not going to be scared off by her terse replies. She had laughed with Jim and the others. She was actually quite friendly when they had dinner together in May. Somewhere inside her (and beneath that ugly dress) was someone who at least somewhat resembled the Mia Thermopolis that Michael Moscovitz had known.   
  
Seeing that he was not going away, Mia reluctantly separated herself from crowd of people she had been standing with and walked with him to a relatively quiet part of the room. She said in a low voice, "You were talking to René earlier."  
  
"Yes. We're old friends." There would be more talk about them if people noticed they were whispering together in a corner of the room, so he spoke at a regular volume. Besides, no one was close enough to be able to hear what they were saying.  
  
"No you're not. He thought that you were a total geek back … you know, back then."  
  
"He was right. I used to be a geek. But now we're old friends."  
  
Mia frowned. "You can't just become old friends."   
  
René himself now came over to them, with two more glasses of champagne. He handed one to Mikey M and said in French, "There you are! And with Mia! I thought of another toast. We never drank to the birthday boy. To Prince Willy."  
  
Mikey M raised his glass to that (Prince Willy?) and drank the champagne just as quickly as René. If he stayed "old friends" with René for very long, he would have to get used to consuming lots of alcohol quickly.  
  
René put his arm around Mikey M's shoulders and said, "Mia, you know my old friend Mikey M. He's coming to visit us next weekend. That is, he's visiting me, not you. He can't go to Genovia. Plus he's my old friend, not yours. So he's coming to Miragnac next weekend. Right, old friend?"  
  
How many more toasts had René been drinking since he was talking to Mikey M before? René took his "old friend"'s empty glass and went off in search of another convenient waiter.  
  
Mikey M looked back at Mia, who did not look at all thrilled by the news of his planned visit.  
  
"My dad is going to kill you," she whispered. "You can't go to Miragnac. Grandmère will totally flip. You'll get René into so much trouble. They could evict him or something."  
  
"No they won't. Everyone expects René to do crazy things to make everyone mad. That's his job. Then they have you to do everything right."  
  
He had thought he would be flattering her by saying that she was always right, but she did not take it that way. Mia looked down at her feet and muttered, "I don't ... that is, I try … God, Michael, you of all people should know that I never do anything right. That's why I have Ted and Francine. But you can't go to Miragnac. You'll make everything worse."   
  
For a moment she had sounded like the fifteen-year-old Mia Thermopolis he used to know, the Mia who would screw up and then panic. In the end, no matter how crazy things got, she always would step back and laugh. But if the new twenty-five-year-old Princess Amelia Renaldo got worried about Mikey M visiting René at Miragnac, she wouldn't laugh at the end. She'd be afraid of the international repercussions and the impact on tourism.  
  
And then Mikey M knew what was bothering him so much about her. Mia didn't look like she having much fun being a princess anymore. She had excellent table manners and she could talk to very boring people while wearing very boring dresses, but she looked like she was merely fulfilling responsibilities and doing what was expected.  
  
There was no doubt in his mind now. He would go to Miragnac next weekend to hear about what Mia had been doing during the past seven years they had been apart. He wanted to know what had happened to her. 


	8. Old Friends, pt 2

Chapter 7 (cont.) – Old Friends, Pt II   
  
Mia couldn't believe this was happening to her.   
  
First, she had to spend the day entertaining the stuffy Grand Duchess of Luxembourg. Now, when she thought she would be escaping the horrors of being polite to other minor European monarchs, she was stuck with the son, Hereditary Duke Guillaume. He was a few years older than Mia and in the same situation as she was, waiting for his father to die so he could take over the responsibilities of the ceremonial head of state, but the similarity of their circumstances did not mean that they had to be friends. In fact, Mia would never, ever speak to him again.  
  
"I don't care what you told René," she said, "We're not going to his party. My dad would kill me."  
  
"René said it would be fine," Guillaume said. "It will be fun."  
  
Guillaume's chauffer was now taking them in the direction of Miragnac, instead of taking them to one of the five-star restaurants on the Genovian waterfront, where Mia had thought they would be spending the evening. She hadn't been looking forward to hearing from Guillaume about how inferior Genovia was to Luxembourg, a topic that the Grand Duchess had already covered at great length, but she would much rather have a very long, boring dinner with Guillaume than go to René's party.  
  
Didn't Guillaume know what kind of parties René had at Miragnac? If the Genovian press found that Mia had dropped by for a few minutes, she'd have to endure weeks of editorials and letters to the editor about how Genovia does not want to support a wild royal princess.   
  
And didn't Guillaume know that Mikey M was going to be at the party tonight? Prince Phillipe had called René a fool for inviting Piaget's Children, but no one could get too mad at him since he was, well, René. He didn't know why it was so important to keep Mikey M away from Genovia, and Mikey M was the sort of high profile celebrity that René would love. Grandmère had still spent a few hours lecturing René about provoking the displeasure of his family, but René didn't take back the invitation to Piaget's Children. In fact, he couldn't stop talking about it.   
  
"René called this afternoon reminding me that I had to go tonight," the Luxembourg prince said. "I told him I was stuck with – I mean, that I had agreed to take you out."  
  
Mia was just as enthusiastic about their being thrown together like this. Of course it was not a real 'date', otherwise that, too, would have led to a big backlash in the press. The princess of Genovia had too many responsibilities to run off with men. So just to make certain no one could misinterpret their dinner, she was wearing a conservative pantsuit and no make-up or jewelry. She looked terrible. She was not going to René's party like this.  
  
"Take me back home," Mia said. "I'm serious. I'm not going to René's party."  
  
"He's not some criminal. He's your cousin."  
  
"It doesn't matter. I can't go."  
  
"You really are as boring as people say," Guillaume muttered in a low voice that he probably intended for her not to hear.  
  
Mia's father and grandmother would be very disappointed in her if she failed to get along with the son of the Grand Duke of Luxembourg. Guillaume was a prince, so there was no way he wasn't going to change his mind about the party. She could either forever damage future ties between Genovia and Luxembourg, or she could grind her teeth and go to René's party.  
  
"Fine, but I won't stay for very long," she said.  
  
She was making a huge mistake. The party was already loud, crowded, and rowdy by the time they arrived. Guillaume vanished within ten seconds of their arrival, so that meant that Princess Amelia Renaldo, in her plain black pantsuit, was left to wander around the crowds of beautiful models and actresses by herself.   
  
"Mia!" Mikey M's publicist, Jen, came over and gave her a quick hug. "René said you would come, but Mikey M said you probably wouldn't. I'm so happy René was right."   
  
Mia genuinely did like Jen and all of Michael's other friends. They were all so nice to her. They went out of their way to like her, so it was easy for her to feel comfortable talking to them. Now Jen, in a gorgeous red dress that Mia could only dream of being allowed to wear in public these days, led her through the crowds so they could see the rest of "the guys". And Mia did want to see Jim, Angus, Ansel, and Felix again. They were fun. It was just Mikey M… Where was he, anyway?  
  
"I—I wasn't going to come." Mia kept looking around all over the rooms they were passing through, looking at who was there and, most importantly, trying to spot Mikey M. If he was there, she had to know where. "But, um, Guillaume wanted come…"  
  
"René said you were going to come with the prince of Luxembourg. That's so cool. You must get to go out with princes all the time."   
  
René must have been very confident that Guillaume would be able to get Mia to come to the party. That was very presumptuous of him. He should be pleasantly surprised and honored by Mia's appearance. And he should make no big deal out of it, because someone from Genovia's newspaper would probably be there.   
  
Then again, maybe it would be possible for Mia's presence there would go completely unnoticed. The other guests certainly didn't care at all about her. She didn't have on her tiara, so to them she was just a Genovian nobody. The few people she did recognize showed no indication of recognizing her. Didn't these people know that she was one day going to rule the country a few miles to the east of Miragnac?  
  
Jen waved at a pair of brunettes that Mia recognized from TV, and whispered to Mia, "The one on the right has been after Mikey M for weeks. She's awful." These were the sort of people that René and Mikey M went to parties with. Beautiful, well-dressed actresses. Mia saw the odd looks her clothes were getting, and she could feel herself blushing. She didn't belong there.   
  
"I'm really glad you came, Mia. I love the guys, but traveling with them is like going places with my little brothers. Usually at least Mikey M brings along a girlfriend, but he's now in music mode. He completely ignores women when he's working on an album."  
  
Jen had to interrupt her commentary in order to exchange a few words with a short shoe designer. She returned to Mia's side and said, "He's sending Mikey M more shoes. Do princesses have to deal with all the gifts, too? Every designer wants Mikey M's seal of approval, so they keep on giving him things. His measurements must be common knowledge by now. Do you think you could find his inseam on the Internet? I'd love to see what Mikey M's closet looks like."  
  
Mia would like to see that, too. If the rest of Mikey M's apartment was any indication of his interior design choices, his clothes closet was probably a bunch of partially unpacked boxes. Jen saw him nearly every single day, and she must have no idea what he was really like. What would she say if she ever saw his apartment? Mia accepted that Michael treated her very distantly – she did dump him, after all, and her father had tried to arrest him twice – but he seemed to treat everyone that way. Yet Jen and everyone else still adored him.  
  
"The guys should be around here somewhere. And Mikey M, he's probably wherever René is. They've spent all day talking privately together. I didn't believe it when Mikey M said that they were old friends, but I guess he was telling the truth."  
  
Mia also did not believe for one minute that Mikey M and René were really friends now. Michael got René to invite him to Miragnac when René was too drunk to think straight. She had no idea why Michael would want to come to the party. He probably just wanted to taunt Mia and her family by being so close to Genovia.   
  
No, he probably wasn't out to taunt Mia. He was past that now. He had helped her when she wanted the gossip about Genovia and him to go away. He didn't say a word when she nearly lost control in front of him at Prince William's birthday party when she heard he was going to come to Miragnac. He was very polite with her. And very, very distant.   
  
René should have realized by now that he didn't really know Mikey M, so what on earth were they talking about today? What did they have in common, besides her?   
  
Oh god, they must be talking about her.   
  
Jen must have noticed Mia's look of panic. "Is there something I should know about Mikey M and René? Mikey never will tell us a thing about his past, but I'm not too surprised to find out that it was so glamorous. I mean, you don't become Mikey M without a pretty cool background. You knew him, didn't you?"  
  
Mia hated to lie, especially to people like Jen who would be able to see past her lies in a minute. So she chose to merely evade the truth. "Yes, we knew each other. But we're not—well, you know, we're not old friends like Mikey M and René."  
  
"Hey, there he is!"  
  
Mia looked over to the part of the room where Jen was pointing. There was a huge crowd of people, and in the center was, of course, Mikey M. Tall, sexy, and as remote as ever. He was leaning against a grand piano, René on one side of him, a couple of beautiful women vying for his attention on the other, and he was not listening to any of them. He was looking across the room and watching them.  
  
Mia immediately turned around and said, "Yes, you're right, he is there."  
  
Jen waved and said, "We should go over and say hi. He's still watching us."  
  
Mia cautiously snuck another look in his direction and was surprised to see that Jen was right. He really was still looking straight at them. The people around him were now turning around to see what he was so interested in. All they could see was Jen and some frumpy stranger, so they were confused.   
  
Why was he just … staring like that? Mia had caught him looking at her a lot when they were at Prince William's party a week ago, but they were always just quick looks that anyone could have missed. She wouldn't have noticed at all had she not been watching him just as closely. But he wasn't hiding his interest in her now. He was up to something, and Mia didn't like it.  
  
The next time Mia let herself look at him, he was walking straight towards them. The people who had been around him now looked confused and a little annoyed at being abandoned by their star. René smirked. What was Michael doing?  
  
More people were staring at her now, seeing her dull clothes and her hardly stunning physical beauty. So much for her being able to come and go without making a scene. Thanks to Mikey M's ill-timed attack of civility, everyone would know she had been there.  
  
"We're all honored that you came, Your Highness." He bowed and smiled. That caused more whispering. Now everyone knew who Mia was – the weird princess of Genovia, in an unflattering pantsuit – and she wanted to leave at once. Jen had stepped away, so it was now just the two of them in the center of the room, with everyone looking at them.  
  
"What are you doing?" she hissed.   
  
"I'm helping you. Will you let me?" He spoke softly, but that only made things worse. People stared more. Mikey M was officially supposed to hardly know Princess Amelia, and now they were whispering in ballrooms. If they weren't careful, people may begin to speculate that René was not Mikey M's only "old friend", and if they looked further into Mia's personal life and saw some pictures of her old male friends…  
  
And did he really say that he wanted to help her? She was one day going to be the leader of an entire country. He was a musician. What could she possibly need his help for? Rewriting the words to the Genovian national anthem?  
  
"I have absolutely no clue what you're talking about, but whatever it is, save it for later. We can't talk here." Now that everyone knew she was a princess, she had to act the part. She could not be seen having a friendly conversation at René's party with someone her father hated.   
  
Mikey M nodded and said, "Of course, you're right. We'll talk later." He turned around back to the crowd of people he had been standing with, and he hollered, "Ansel, play something. I want to dance with the princess of Genovia."  
  
Mia didn't know who was the most astonished person in the room, but she was probably within the top ten. Ansel must have been expecting the request. He sat down at the piano and played a graceful waltz, something eminently suitable for the setting and for a princess, even if the princess was very under-dressed.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked again, a bit louder this time.   
  
"I told you," Mikey M said. He held out his hand and said loud enough for people near them to hear, "May I have this dance?"  
  
This was his idea of helping her?   
  
Mia looked around for support, but she knew she didn't know anyone else there. Jen was with the other band members by the piano. Ted and Francine were at the palace arranging for tomorrow's events with the royal family of Luxembourg. Even Françoise had the night off since Guillaume had his own bodyguards. Guillaume was nowhere to be seen. René looked pleased with himself, still with the group by the piano. Mikey M and René planned for this to happen, didn't they?  
  
"Umm… OK."   
  
What else could she say with everyone watching her? She was trapped. She'd tell her father and her grandmother the truth when she got home. She didn't want to go to the party, then she couldn't get Michael mad after all the mess last month over his being banned from Genovia. She was doing this for Genovia.  
  
She was a princess; dancing was part of the job description. She went to balls all the time. She just never imagined having to dance a waltz with her ex-boyfriend in front of a room filled with celebrities.   
  
But she did her best to hide how terrified she really was. Mia took a few steps closer to Mikey M and tentatively placed her left hand on his right shoulder. He was taller than she remembered, but it had been many, many years since they last danced together. He smelled the same – No, she was not going to think about things like that. She was also not going to think about the exact spot on her back where his right hand was touching her. She had never felt so acutely aware of her left shoulder blade.  
  
It was just a dance with a cute guy. She let him lead her through the familiar steps. Right foot back, left foot slide, right foot close. It was safest to just think about the steps, and not about the person she was dancing with. But following Michael was too easy; she couldn't ignore him when their bodies were less than twelve inches away from each other.  
  
She was being ridiculous. She had danced with hundreds of people. But dancing with other men never felt like dancing with Michael, having Michael's arms around her, feeling Michael's breath against her cheek...   
  
After about a minute of silence, while they both were adjusting to the shock of dancing together again, Mia said quietly, "What are you really doing?"   
  
"I'm making you the center of attention. You deserve to be. You're a princess." Even when he was saying nice things to her, he spoke with an unexpected degree of coldness. Mia would never get used to him acting and sounding like they were strangers. He must not be thinking about how she smelled or how familiar she felt in his arms. He could be discussing the stock market or logistics for his next concert tour.  
  
She tried to match his level, indifferent tone, but her voice trembled slightly as she said, "I don't need your assistance in getting attention, thank you."   
  
"Yes, you do. No one here knew who you were until I said something. I can help you."   
  
Her first impulse was to tell him to mind his own business. Sure, she may have problems in her relations with the Genovians, and few people outside of Genovia knew who she was and what she was doing these days, but that didn't meant that she needed help. She was working on projecting a responsible, trust-worthy image that would slowly win back the respect and affection of her people.   
  
But everyone loved Mikey M, even in Genovia. When the papers found out that Mikey M had been banned from entering Genovia, the Genovian public was furious. Michael had created an entire new career and identity for himself in only seven years. He knew how to get attention and how to win people over. And sometimes he was nice to her. Perhaps he could be a good ally.  
  
"Why?" she asked.  
  
He said very quickly and softly, "Because your problems in Genovia are all my fault. René told me. Everything began because of those stupid tabloids. It's my fault."  
  
So all this – the bowing in the ballroom, the waltz, the offer for help – was being done because Mikey M felt sorry for her. Fantastic. Mia didn't know who to be mad at: René for talking about her, or Michael for offering to share the media spotlight with her out of charity. Yes, the tabloids had been a component in a long chain of events that resulted in her current situation, but she was not going to accept his apologies or pity.  
  
Miragnac's ballroom was the wrong place for this conversation, no matter what volume they were speaking at. Mia looked around the room over Mikey M's shoulder as he led her in graceful swirls around the center of the ballroom. A few other people had joined them on the dance floor, but most people stayed at the side and watched and whispered at the spectacle Mikey M and she were making.  
  
In case any of the other dancers came near them, Mia lowered her voice to a near-whisper, too. "It's my own fault that I am not popular in Genovia. You have no obligation to help me."  
  
"I've been doing this sort of thing for years. It will help me, too. We both have reputations to maintain."   
  
Mia didn't understand. Their reputations were nothing at all alike. How could something he did for her help them both? He didn't have to win over the Genovian people. She couldn't help him become a more successful musician. Was it possible for him to become even more successful?  
  
She asked, "What sort of thing?"  
  
"So you'll let me help you?"   
  
He could be a great help to her, if he wanted to be. But for all Mia knew, his help could involve hiring assassins to bump off Grandmère, or it could be as mundane as replacing the plumbing in the palace. His voice betrayed nothing of his intentions. Mikey M was still a stranger to her, so how could she trust him to help her?   
  
"Maybe," she said. "But only if you told me first what you want to do."  
  
"I'll show you instead."  
  
And then he kissed her.  
  
------  
  
(Author's note: Yes, I know, that's an annoying place to end but, well, homework beckons. Sorry. The next chapter explains what's been happening in Genovia the last seven years. Oh, and it also explains exactly what the heck Michael's up to. So look for the next part some time next week. Thanks for all the great reviews! Fear not, Mia and Michael will end up together in the end, but it's going to take a while.) 


	9. Just a Kiss, pt 1

Chapter 8 – Just A Kiss, pt 1  
  
August, nearly seven years ago...  
  
Mia had arrived in Genovia two hours before, and she had already been told by her grandmother that she was dressed like a "poulet" (and not in the "chicken" sense), cousin Sebastiano had told her that purple was simply not her color, Tante Jean Marie told her she was too young to be wearing lipstick, and Oncle Luc criticized her choice of college that she was beginning in September. As far as her family was concerned, she was doing nothing right. And now her father was waving that week's National Enquirer like it was proof that she was some sort of criminal.  
  
"I don't see what the big idea is," Mia said. "Yes, I kissed him."  
  
The cover featured a big picture of Princess Amelia Renaldo of Genovia sharing an intimate kiss with a mostly unseen blond-haired young man identified by the large headline as Trenton Hadley, the son of the founder and CEO of Hadley Enterprises. It wasn't the worst thing about her that had ever appeared in the tabloids, though it was not something she would want her father to see because she knew that he'd overreact. Just like he was overreacting now.  
  
"You acted like that in the middle of Central Park? What were you thinking?"  
  
She had been thinking that Trenton looked kind of cute when he was feeding the ducks. She had been thinking back on all the nice things Trenton had been doing for her in a very blatant attempt to get her attention. She had been wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. So she did.  
  
Under different circumstances, she might have found the entire scene funny. Her father, the Genovian press secretary, and a half dozen other very serious-looking men and women were flipping through a stack of magazines and tabloids. Teen People, 'Us' Magazine, CosmoGirl, Star, then a stack of carefully cut out and highlighted gossip columns from newspapers around the world. Who'd guess that Mia would become so popular in the last three months?  
  
Her father sat at the head of the table and Mia at the foot. He was the one in charge, and she was the one being scolded for misbehaving. The other people were the ones responsible for what the world knew about Genovia's royal family. By getting herself written about in all the gossip magazines and tabloids, she had been making their jobs harder. So everyone in the room was really, really mad at her. And her family wondered why she never wanted to hang around Genovia anymore?  
  
Mia was going to start college in September. This summer was the last chance she had to go out and have fun. At least it all was supposed to be fun. People would invite her to go somewhere, she'd arrive, lots of other people would be there, they'd get dressed up and go out to good restaurants, then they'd go out to clubs until dawn or to someone's house for a party that could last for days. This was the sort of thing that rich, young people were supposed to do. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time. There must be something wrong with Mia, because she really wasn't having much fun at all.   
  
Partying with other young celebrities meant having to deal with the paparazzi. And it meant getting stuck on the cover of the National Enquirer for kissing another young, rich, and vaguely famous person.   
  
"I didn't know that there were reporters around," she said, but she knew that excuse wasn't good enough. She was a public figure. And, as all the magazines and tabloids on the table proved, she was news these days. She should have known she was being followed.  
  
"Why were you in Central Park at all?"  
  
"I wanted to see the zoo and the ducks and everything again."   
  
Mia grabbed one of the articles on the table so she could avoid looking at her father during the interrogation. The worst part of the entire kissing mess was that the kiss itself was such a disappointment. It had been a beautiful summer day, not too hot for that time in early August, the ducks were still around eating bread crumbs they had left, Lars was far enough away that she could pretend he wasn't there at all. The setting was perfect for romance, but, well, maybe Trenton was a bad kisser.   
  
Mia knew all about how kisses were supposed to feel. They make your heart beat a little faster, they make you want to hold onto the guy tighter because you really are not certain whether your legs can support your weight, they make you feel really, really good, and they make you want to kiss the guy again and again. She was an expert on kisses. She had been kissing Michael Moscovitz for years, and they never failed to effect her that way.   
  
But Trenton Hadley's kiss wasn't anything like that. Mia was pretty certain she was doing the same thing as she did when she was kissing Michael, so it couldn't be her fault. Just like wasn't her fault when kissing Jude, Kevin, Jason, and Steve also didn't feel right. There were pictures of some of those failed romantic experiments, too.   
  
"You were not supposed to be in New York at all. You were supposed to be in Genovia with your grandmother and me for the Italian prime minister's visit."  
  
"Sorry. I sort of forgot about that."  
  
This was the first summer that Mia had spent outside of Genovia. She had Michael Moscovitz to thank for that. If things weren't bad enough back in New York, with all the "exclusive" interviews with the royal ex-boyfriend and with people who had witnessed the scene at her birthday, the media coverage was much, much worse in Genovia.   
  
Michael had never been to Genovia, but now everyone in the country knew who he was. He was the nerd Mia used to be crazy about. He said in interviews that he wrote a computer program to tell Mia that he loved her back in her freshman year. Of course Mia knew it had been a very cute way for Michael to get her to realize that he was crazy about her, and it certainly had been effective. But to the general public, computer programs don't sound very romantic. To the Genovian people and to the Genovian press, Michael Moscovitz was just a quiet, skinny, anti-social computer geek.  
  
He was the poor loser who got his heart torn into shreds when Mia dumped him. He was the desperate kid willing to break tons of laws just to make a fool of himself in front of all her guests at her birthday celebration. He was the crazy ex-boyfriend who had completely disappeared from sight, presumably to get help at some mental institution since he had no plans to return to Columbia University.   
  
To make things look even worse for him, the papers printed lots of pictures from his last few interviews. Michael was usually a good-looking guy, but he had really let himself go. He must have stopped eating and sleeping at some point, because he looked really, really terrible, especially right after the Genovian-embassy disaster.   
  
Mia felt awful about what was happening to him, but she had problems of her own. Poor, pathetic, mentally-unstable Michael Moscovitz had dared to love the princess of Genovia, and she had heartlessly dumped him and ruined his life. She came off looking like a real jerk, but her father would not let her tell her side of the story to anyone.  
  
So wherever she showed up, people asked her about Michael. And it was not only reporters who asked; she would go to a hospital opening and the daughter of the head surgeon would ask if she knew what Michael was up to. She would get approached at restaurants from people wanting to know how crazy Michael was faring. She didn't want to have to keep on talking about him, so she ran away. In theory, she was staying away from Genovia until the gossip died down. In practice, she was just creating a lot of new gossip. If the Genovian press thought she was a mean, thoughtless girl before, they really had a lot of bad things to say about her now.  
  
"You're smarter than this, Mia," Prince Phillipe said in a softer voice.   
  
She looked down the table at her father and then quickly looked away. He was disappointed in her. She hated knowing that she had let everyone down. But it was still her life, and she couldn't stay in Genovia and wait around until people were tired of talking about how crazy her ex-boyfriend was.   
  
"But we're not all gathered here to talk about Hadley or anything else," her father said, in his more formal Prince-of-Genovia business voice. "This isn't just about you being in all these magazines. This is all embarrassing for the family, of course, but I don't call down everyone here for family matters."  
  
"So what's going on?" Mia asked. Whatever it was, she knew she wasn't going to like it.   
  
Prince Phillipe looked about as reluctant to begin his lecture as Mia was to hear it. He slowly began, "Genovia is a constitutional monarchy. I am not just a figurehead, like other royal families. From the way the system is currently set up, you will one day take over as the head of government and run Parliament sessions and deal with appointing judges and ministers and all the other boring things I do all day."  
  
Mia knew all this already, and she knew that her father loved his job and didn't consider it even remotely boring. He genuinely loved serving Genovia and doing everything he could to see that the country was run well. She wasn't certain how good she was going to be when she became Crown Princess, but she knew what to expect. Her grandmother and father had been spending the last four years trying to prepare her for it.   
  
Prince Phillipe continued, "But things don't need to stay this way. We all know that Genovia is behind the times. You don't see many kings around these days. There's no reason why I'm any more qualified to have all this power than anyone else."  
  
"You're stepping down?" Mia asked.   
  
"No, of course not," he snapped. "I am not the issue. You are."  
  
"What?"  
  
He took a deep breath to give himself time to decide how best to say whatever it was that he was driving at. Mia didn't understand. She was only eighteen years old. She didn't know a thing about parliamentary procedure, but there was time for her to learn things like that.   
  
Oh god, was her father's cancer back? Did they think she was going to be coming to power sooner than expected?  
  
"There was a poll." Phillipe looked over at one of his bland officials, but they looked even less eager to explain than he was himself. He picked up a computer print-out from the table and said, "You know you have a lot of other options for your future other than politics."  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
She never seriously considered doing anything with her life beyond the princess stuff. Sure, she liked to write, and sometimes she thought about writing a novel or trying to become a journalist, but in the end she knew that she would be following in her father's footsteps and looking after her country. If she did anything else, she would be neglecting her responsibilities as the princess of Genovia and as her father's only child.  
  
Then came the bombshell: "Seventy percent of Genovians want you to renounce your future role in Genovian government. I'm sorry, Mia."  
  
So that was the problem. The Genovians hated her. They really, truly hated her. They still liked Prince Phillipe, and they would always love wacky Princess Clarisse, but they didn't want anything to do with young Amelia.   
  
Everyone was waiting to hear her reaction, but she couldn't even start crying. When she found out that she was a princess when she was fourteen, she had thought that she would never be able to be as shocked ever again. But finding out that she may no longer be a princess was much, much worse.   
  
"This isn't the final verdict on you, Mia," her father said quickly. "It's just a poll. But seventy percent is, well, that's a lot."  
  
Seventy percent of 50,000 people meant that 35,000 people hated her. Genovia was a small country, so there was no way she would be able to avoid seeing them. In fact, the officials in the room now were probably part of that hating-majority. They certainly weren't rushing to her defense now.   
  
"It's because of Michael, isn't it? All these tabloids and the gossip and now Trenton. It all started with Michael. And now I'm getting fired." She tossed the article she had been looking at onto the pile. First the paparazzi killed Princess Diana, and now they were making tens of thousands of Genovians hate her.  
  
"We only brought them along to prove the point. If you want to get these poll numbers to change, you can't, well, do all this. Genovians are at heart very conservative people."   
  
Mia noted that her father made no reference to his string of super-model girlfriends. The Genovians didn't care about who he kissed. They worried about their princess looking like a heartless slut, though. What a double standard.   
  
Nothing ever happened with any of the guys she went out with. They'd be really nice to her, she'd try really hard to like them, but nothing ever worked out. It was the kiss that clinched it. She was OK with going out to dinner with someone and arriving at parties together, but, no matter how cute the guy was, none of the kisses felt like real kisses should. And if she didn't want to kiss a guy, she definitely didn't want to date him. So Princess Amelia Renaldo of Genovia could be photographed with men all over Central Park, but she was still alone, and still very much Michael Moscovitz's long-suffering ex-girlfriend.  
  
But that breakup was a good thing. Really. Way too much had happened in the last few months for them ever to get back together. He broke into the Genovian embassy and could have been sent to federal prison! He'd be no good at all as a royal consort. He'd go rob the crown jewels from the Tower of London while on a state visit, or steal the Mona Lisa from the Louvre while Mia was meeting the French Prime Minister.  
  
Mia had broken up with her high school sweetheart and she had tried out the high-flying life of a rich party girl. Now she was ready to begin college and settle down to reality. She said, "I'm going to start college. I won't be in New York, except when I go see Mom and Mr. G and everyone there. I won't see Trenton again. I'm going to be totally boring."  
  
"It's going to take more than that to change public opinion."  
  
"What do you mean? A public apology? Prince Harry does way worse things than I've done. I think we should address the social inequality between the sexes that still exists today in Genovia. It's totally unfair that René can go to the same parties as I do, but I'm the one everyone yells at. Sure, he doesn't have a country to ever worry about, but it's still not fair—"  
  
Prince Phillipe interrupted her before she could finish her feminist rant. "So you really are interested in staying involved in the government?"  
  
"Yes. I'm going to be really good at it, too."  
  
He finally smiled with genuine relief. Did he really think she would have wanted to step down? The other officials at the table also looked pleased, probably because it would have been a nightmare to handle the press if she had taken the other option.   
  
Prince Phillipe waved the National Enquirer with her kiss with Trenton and said, "Well, stay away from all that now. You're going to be busy enough with school, so don't worry about Parliament or the rest of Genovian politics. You have plenty of time to worry about that when you're my age. For now, just work on the polls."  
  
"The polls?" She associated public opinion polls with elected officials, not princesses. Things were a lot easier when rulers could say they had the mandate of heaven and then do whatever they thought was right. She had to get 35,000 people to think that she wasn't a reckless, partying, boy-kissing-and-dumping slut.  
  
"We'll get people to help, don't worry. In fact, we have some candidates already picked out. You remember your cousin Francine…"  
  
And so the clothing changed, the attitude changed, the media attention changed and then virtually vanished, and Mia become someone different, just so she could keep her tiara.  
  
*******  
  
Back to the present....  
  
By the time Mia realized that she was being kissed, it was over. Mikey M held her slightly closer, and they continued dancing. He kissed her! In front of all those people! She saw the stares and heard the whispering. Everyone else was in as much shock as she was.   
  
"I can't believe you did that," she whispered. "I don't appreciate being laughed at."  
  
Mikey M was looking over her shoulder while they danced, so she did not know whether he was smiling at her or at the other people in the room. He certainly did not seem disturbed by the unexpected turn of events. He must have planned the kiss, along with the dance, along with her appearance at René's party.  
  
"No one is laughing at you," he said. "No one ever laughs at the women I go out with."  
  
"In case you didn't notice, we're not going out. We happen to live in different countries."   
  
He was right, though; the other guests at the party were not laughing at her. They looked surprised and a bit baffled, but they were interested, not amused, by what Mikey M was up to now. But Mikey was laughing at her, and she didn't like that at all. He had to be joking. Who would mistake them as a genuine couple? She never went out with anyone, and he dated lots of beautiful, famous women.  
  
"I'm renting the neighboring estate for a month," he said. "René knows the owners of Mirabeau. We're going to finish working on our album here. It's going to cost a fortune to get a decent studio set up there in a few days."   
  
He made everything sound like it was a routine procedure. Kiss a princess, relocate to France, then let everyone think they were dating. It was all too sudden. Besides, Jen said that Mikey M never bothered with women when he was working on his music. Mia always heard him described as being a really focused artist. Being so close to Genovia and dealing with all the press sounded like it would be a huge distraction from his work on the band's next album.  
  
"Why?" she asked, for the second time.  
  
"Because I want to help you. It won't take much. We get seen a few places together, we look happy, you get good press, I go home. It's not the fairy-tale happily-ever-after ending that René says would really win over the public, but I can't do everything for you."  
  
Of course he wasn't going to talk about the potential risk to himself. People were going to speculate more about why he was banned from Genovia. By appearing in public with Mia, he would be giving more people the opportunity to make the connection between him and a previous Michael in Mia's life. Plus he'd have to actually deal with Mia and the Genovians a lot, which was something he had not previously seemed very eager to do. And Mia couldn't even imagine what her father and grandmother were going to say about all this.   
  
"You don't need to do this."  
  
"Now I do. What would these people think of me if I kiss a woman and then turn my back on her? Besides, it's been years since I've gone out with a princess. I want to do this. It will be fun. Trust me."   
  
If this was his idea of romantically asking a girl out, Mia would prefer another computer program. He wanted to be seen going out with a princess. In return, she would get to be seen going out with him. Then they would break up again. Yeah, that sounded like tons of fun.  
  
Then again, all the famous and cool people at René's party already were looking at her differently. She was no longer so out of place now that she was with Mikey M. It had been years since she went to parties like this without feeling like she was doing something very, very wrong. They were often more interesting than dinner at the palace.   
  
Her father kept on telling her to keep an eye on the polls and do whatever it took to keep the Genovians happy. The Genovians loved Mikey M and Piaget's Children. They had said that she was too boring. The Genovians were going to have a blast with this.  
  
"When we decide to call it all off, we decide together, OK? And don't expect me to drop everything just to go to some – I don't know – some movie premier with you. I have responsibilities in Genovia, a whole lot of very important things to do. You can't even enter the country still. And—"  
  
"So it's agreed?"  
  
Here it was, her last time to bail out of this crazy plan. It was a big mistake. She knew she was going to live to regret all this. There were better, safer ways to get the Genovians to like her. But, god, the polls were right. She was boring. Getting involved with Michael again would definitely make life more exciting.  
  
She nodded and said, "Yeah. It will be fun."   
  
"Good. I'll send you a message at the palace tomorrow."   
  
He didn't sound even remotely nervous. He had everything figured out, he had weighed all the risks and all the possible benefits, and he must have no doubt that it was a good plan. He didn't exactly sound overjoyed that she agreed, but maybe he just never got excited about anything anymore. He was always so calm and cool.   
  
The music ended, so their waltz was over. Mikey M gave her another formal bow and said, "Until tomorrow, your Highness." He smiled, then walked away.  
  
Mia blinked. He really did kiss her. And now they were dating again. How on earth was she going to explain all this to the people back at the palace? 


	10. Just a Kiss, pt 2

Chapter 8 – Just A Kiss, pt. 2  
  
Contrary to what other people may have said, the press did not directly take orders from Mikey M. If he wanted them to write a story about him, he had to first convince them that he was doing something news-worthy.   
  
Reports that he had been seen kissing the princess of Genovia at a party were interesting, yes, but it was not news. At least it wouldn't be news until there was a picture of them together, preferably in an unambiguously amorous pose. Creditable sources had to confirm that there was a relationship. Maybe a comment or two from Mikey M himself vaguely alluding to his new romance. And then let the media fill in all the details about how much in love they were and how long it was going to last.   
  
The morning after René's party, Mikey M found Jen in Miragnac's breakfast room. He said, "Have you talked to your media friends yet? I want everyone to know that we're staying in France."  
  
Jen was used to taking his instructions without question, but she hesitated this time. "What about Princess Amelia?" She was very reluctant to ask the question. She knew as well as everyone else that he never discussed his personal life, not even with the people he would consider his friends.  
  
"I told Mia last night that we're staying at Mirabeau."   
  
"I mean what do you want me to say about her?"  
  
He knew that Jen and the others genuinely did like Mia, so he was not surprised that Jen wanted to treat her differently from all the other women he had been romantically linked to. Of course Jen did not know just how different Mia was to him. Jen and the others only knew that Princess Amelia was a sweet young lady, and that she never went out with a celebrity like Mikey M before.  
  
"Don't worry about protecting her from media attention. She's been living in front of the cameras since she was fourteen. She's a pro. So deal with this like you've dealt with things like this in the past. Deny everything."  
  
Jim and Angus were also already down to breakfast at that comparatively early hour, so they were also listening to the conversation. Everyone except Mikey M was going back to London that afternoon to pack things up for the move. He wasn't going to leave France until he had seen Mia again. He wasn't going to let her back out now.  
  
Jim said, "I thought she came with a prince last night. You mean she's really…"  
  
Mikey M's friends had good reason to be confused about Mia and him. Mia and he had been meeting merely as polite acquaintances up to now, and there was still the lingering mystery of why he was banned from entering Genovia and why he was on such bad terms with Mia's father. But he was not going to explain anything more than he had to.  
  
So he gave Jim a cold look and said, "Believe it or not." He left the room knowing that his friends would be gossiping about him as soon as he was out of earshot.  
  
If people who had seen Mia and him together the previous night still had doubts about them, people who heard the gossip second- and third-hand would have even bigger doubts. They would need to make a big public appearance, as soon as possible, before the buzz died down.  
  
Mikey M hadn't gone far from the breakfast room when he was stopped by Prince René in the halls. He hadn't expected his host to be out of bed so early after the previous night's revelry, but René looked wide awake. He still was very excited about the game he had gotten his cousin involved in.  
  
"Good morning, old friend. Is Mia coming over tonight?" René asked, of course in French. He had finally accepted that Mikey M was not actually from Genovia, in spite of his Genovian accent when speaking French, but he would not accept that Mikey M was really an ordinary American. He still insisted that French had to be Mikey's native language, so he would speak in French with him and in English to everyone else in his entourage.   
  
"I haven't talked to her since last night."   
  
She had run off very quickly after he kissed her. He remained, and he very cautiously avoided answering any questions about whether he was actually involved with Princess Amelia. Make everyone curious. Keep them guessing. When everything becomes clear, they'll be even more interested.  
  
"Mia must come. I'll arrange everything. Your people are leaving this afternoon, right? I'll dine out. That way it will be just you and her, it will be perfect. My cooks are fantastic."  
  
René started describing his favorite dishes in great detail and would have composed the menu for the evening while still standing in the hallway had he not been called away to answer a phone call. Dinner alone with Mia would be a good start. The staff at Miragnac would know that they had been dining alone, which could help the gossip, and they would be able to compare schedules and see what sort of joint public appearances they could make.   
  
René reappeared, looking even more excited. "Good news! I've been summoned to the palace. Phillipe is going to lecture me about putting Mia in awkward social situations. So I can invite Mia for you."  
  
Mikey M couldn't call Mia up on the phone or stop by the palace himself, but he didn't want to have to rely on René's discretion and persuasion to get Mia to agree to come. René meant well, but he had no idea what was really going on between Mia and him. As far as René knew, Mikey M knew Mia from their childhood and was now going to make a show of dating her because of their friendship. René also didn't understand just how unwelcomed Mikey M was to Genovia. So he would do something stupid like invite Mia in front of Prince Phillipe and Grandmère.  
  
"I'll invite her myself. Where can I get some paper? Just make certain she gets the note, and no one else sees."  
  
René happily played the role of the messenger between Miragnac and Genovia. He returned in a few hours with a big grin and a message back from Mia.  
  
"I have plans for dinner tonight. I have plans for dinner every night for the entire month of July. Francine says there are some openings in late August. –Mia. [Then added in a different color ink, no doubt scribbled in a hurry:] Get René to send a car to the opera house at 11 pm tonight. I'll be there."  
  
She was coming. Wow. He hadn't realized how uncertain he was about whether she was going to come until he had read the note. She really wasn't going to back out. This was going to work out.  
  
René waited until Mikey M had read the message, then said, "I told you she'd say yes, didn't I? She wrote the first part in front of Francine and Ted, and I thought it was very bad of her. But then she found me in the halls and added the other part. You don't mind I read it, do you? We're all old friends, so we have no secrets, right?"  
  
No secrets, right. He could glare all he wanted at René, but the young prince would never understand why Mikey M was so insistent on his privacy. So all he could do is smile and say, "Thanks for your help."  
  
"You want to know how things are at the palace, don't you? Phillipe says you're dangerous and obsessive. Don't take it personally. He must not be a fan of your music. Clarisse says you're not good enough for Mia, but that isn't very surprising, is it? She says you should stick to your 'kind'. Isn't that great? I wouldn't mind being able to stick to your 'kind', and I said so. Mia was already done talking to them when I got there, so she just sat there and listened. Then she went off to see Francine and Ted – that's when Phillipe tried to get me to throw you out and block you renting Mirabeau – and then I found Mia and gave her the message. I did well, didn't I? You are lucky to have a friend like me."  
  
He was not surprised to hear Mia's dad and grandmother's objections to him. Phillipe wanted Mia to think that he was still the crazy, desperate ex-boyfriend. Grandmère never took Michael Moscovitz seriously as Mia's boyfriend, so she was not going to think that Mikey M was any better. Francine was part of the family, so she could never openly support Mia doing the exact opposite of what Prince Phillipe wanted her to do. And Ted would be fired in a second if he helped arrange rendezvous between Mia and Mikey M.  
  
Mia was going to disregard all the advice from her father, grandmother, and her trusted assistants in order to see him. They all were going to have to get used to him being in her life, at least for the next few weeks. Some of those dinner engagements were definitely going to have to be cancelled. He was willing to share her with Genovia, but he wasn't going to wait around until she had time to see him. He was just as important as her ambassadors and visiting foreign leaders.  
  
The rest of Piaget's Children and their accompanying staff left Miragnac in the afternoon, all to return in two days to move into Mirabeau. René made the arrangements for the car to pick up Mia, and Mikey M waited. And waited. It was after midnight when the car returned with the princess of Genovia in the back seat.  
  
He startled her by appearing in the front hallway as soon as the door opened. She was wearing gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, not exactly the clothes one would wear to meet with the man she was supposed to be dating.   
  
"Umm, hi Michael – M! I mean, Mikey M." She looked around the foyer for possible witnesses, but not seeing their comparative privacy, she said quickly, "I look terrible, I know. These are my pajamas. I'm supposed to be in bed. Grandmère thinks I'm up to something so she kept on sending people to my room. That's why I'm late. Sorry."  
  
"I'm glad you came."   
  
If other people were present, she would play the role of the perfect princess and he would play the part of the super-cool rock star, but neither of them knew how to behave when it was just them. Not even François was there this time. It was the first time they had actually truly been alone. But then René's butler appeared to take Mia's coat and offer them drinks, and the two went into one of the formal parlors like good, proper guests.  
  
Mikey M told the butler that they were not to be disturbed, then he made certain all the doors were closed fully. He sat down on a chair a few feet away from Mia's and wondered what he was supposed to say now.  
  
"So…" Mia began awkwardly. "I should get back to the palace before people realize I'm gone. They're probably going to catch me anyway, but at least I want to try to get away with it."  
  
She looked much more natural in just her pajamas. She even sounded differently. She seemed much more like a twenty-five-year-old version of Mia Thermopolis than the boring Princess Amelia Renaldo of Genovia. Mikey M knew Mia Thermopolis, and he was massively disrupting his normally scheduled life in order to help that Mia he had known and loved. He felt sorry for Princess Amelia and hoped she would be happy. But she would never be just Mia Thermopolis again, so after he helped her for a month they would go their separate ways.   
  
"The car can take you back. I'm sure René would let you stay in one of his empty guest rooms here tonight, but I wouldn't want to give your dad a heart attack."  
  
She smiled and didn't contradict him. If Prince Phillipe thought that this was more than a social visit, he'd be gathering up the Genovian National Guard at once and launching a full-scale invasion across the border. If Prince Phillipe knew about the visit at all, he would be increasing border patrols to catch Mikey M if he happened to take one step into Genovia, and then he would prepare a special cell in the deepest dungeon of the castle just for him.   
  
Mia said, "Miragnac is so quiet tonight. Where is everyone?"  
  
"René's out somewhere. I didn't ask where, but he said he wouldn't be back until morning. All my people are back in London. There's a lot of packing to do."  
  
"What about you? Don't you have packing to do, too?"  
  
"I wanted to see you before I left."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He wanted to ask her about the resistance she must be dealing with at the palace, but he didn't want to pry into her personal life. She would have to deal with her deranged relatives herself because there was no way he was going to help her there. If it could be managed, he would love to avoid ever seeing Prince Phillipe and Grandmère.   
  
So instead of talking about her, he stuck to the matter at hand: their future together. More importantly, the big events they should go to in order to maximize the publicity of their relationship without taking much time from both their busy schedules.   
  
He gave her a list and said, "Those are a few events I absolutely have to go to. You should come, too."   
  
"We'll see." She looked like she would rather throttle him for trying to tell her what to do. It was OK for Ted and Francine to dictate her life and arrange appearances for her, but she didn't want him to do the same. Then she actually read the list. "Oh my god, you could get me into these places?"   
  
The frosty princess was gone, and Mikey M smiled. "So it looks OK to you? No kings visiting or olive oil conventions on those dates?"  
  
"If the president of the United States wants to visit Genovia when I could be at the International Music Awards, Grandmère can handle him. This is so cool. I need to get a dress, don't I? I hope there's enough time. I'll get something really cool."  
  
He hadn't seen her look so happy since she was back in high school. All the annoyance of dealing with the press and creating a fictitious romance between Mia and him was going to be worth it. The prospect of making appearances with him was already making Mia happier. By the end of the month, she would probably be getting invitations of her own to events.  
  
"What about you? Are you doing anything cool outside of Genovia that I can go to?"   
  
Mia shook her head no while she read his list over again.  
  
"Do you really stay in Genovia all the time?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head no again. "You'd be totally bored to death if you had to go to the places I go to. They're all about politics, even when they're supposed to be about something else like art or the environment. It gets so boring."  
  
"How do you know I'd be bored?"  
  
"You have better things to do, trust me. Don't you remember all the totally boring places I took you back … you know, back then?" She automatically looked over to the door, just in case someone heard her slip.  
  
He had never found the stuffy, formal affairs back in New York to be boring. At the time he had imagined that he was preparing for his official role of Prince Consort – he really had no clue he was going to get dumped before things ever got that far – so he would listen and even take notes about who was there and what everyone had said. No one had ever paid him any attention; he was just Mia's young boyfriend. He wondered what it would be like now. Would the government officials acknowledge that a greater percentage of the international community knew who Mikey M was than who the president of Spain was?   
  
"If you ask, I'll go. If you can get me into Genovia, I'll even go there."  
  
"Really?"   
  
If she thought the official events were so bad, why was she so committed to doing her duties and going to them? He would love to go and see Princess Amelia in her element. Did she talk about politics all day, too? She was going to one day lead an entire country by herself, so she would need to meet all the important figures in international politics.   
  
"It could be educational," he said. "I'm very good at charity events, too. I'm good with getting media attention."  
  
"I know. That's why I'm here, remember?" She looked at her watch and said, "It's getting late. I'll take your list and see whether Ted and Francine have a huge panic attack over it. Ted will totally be on our side. Francine may have to say other things, but she's really with us, too. She'll have to help me find the right clothes."  
  
Thank god Mia would be able to wear better clothes. But he didn't want her to feel more self-conscious about how she looked these days. He said, "I'm going to London tomorrow. I'll be back on Tuesday. I'll be in touch."   
  
He called for the car to come around, and he walked her to the front door. It was odd to see Mia without a bodyguard. What better time for Euro-trash terrorists to kidnap her than now that she was sneaking around the palace grounds alone at night? But he didn't have the right to tell Mia to be careful. She was only his girlfriend for show. In the end, she would have to take care of herself.   
  
And then Mikey M noticed something in the distance. The moonlight had briefly reflected against the lens of a camera, a few hundred feet away hidden in the hedge on the front drive. Miragnac's front entrance was well-lit. There were no obstructions between the camera and where they were standing. It was perfect.   
  
"Wait, Mia," he said, just as she was opening the car door. She turned around, ready to ask what he wanted.   
  
Hopefully the photographer's lens was powerful enough, because it would have made for one hell of a picture: Mikey M and Princess Amelia sharing a lingering, intimate kiss. He had his arms around her so she wouldn't be able to pull away too quickly and thereby ruin the shot. When he finally did let her go, Mia had that same deer-in-headlights look of shock she had had when he kissed her the night before.   
  
"What was that for?" she asked. She was the only woman he had ever kissed who needed an explanation for why.   
  
"Practice," he said. "And there's a photographer hiding in the bushes. We've been caught. So don't worry about not being seen when you get back. Just let the car drop you off at the entrance."  
  
"My dad is so going to kill me." But her panic was quickly replaced by a different emotion. She actually smiled and said, "This is going to be fun, isn't it? It's like we're playing a big trick on everyone." She then gave him a friendly peck on the cheek and disappeared in the car.  
  
Mikey M stayed on the front steps and watched the car go down the long drive way. Mia was right. They were just playing a big trick on everyone. It was all a game. But, wow. She kissed him. He hadn't expected that. 


	11. On Display, pt 1

Chapter 9 – On Display, pt. 1  
  
Mikey M went to six or seven music awards ceremonies every year. The settings changed, the shape of the trophy varied, but the same people always showed up, and Piaget's Children would be there to pick up whatever award they were eligible for that year. They always won, and Mikey M was genuinely pleased every time. More awards meant more fame, more name-recognition, more publicity, more prestige, and, of course, more sales.   
  
The International Music Awards were held every year in Monte-Carlo. Mikey M and the rest of Piaget's Children's entourage had a hotel suite in Monaco, and Mia and René were being driven up together from Genovia for the evening. This was Mia and Mikey M's first big public appearance together, and he was much more nervous over that than over the actual awards ceremony. He knew what to expect once he was in the auditorium. He didn't know how people would react to Mia.  
  
Mirabeau was now fully set up as the temporary home for Piaget's Children, and Jen had done her duty in making certain everyone knew about it. Everyone knew the reason for their presence in France, too: Mikey M was having a secret affair with Princess Amelia of Genovia. The details were covered in all the gossip pages. Their long-standing romance was said to be the true cause for the feud between the rock star and Prince Phillipe. They were finally making their relationship public because Mia was jealous of all the women he was connected to. Or he wanted to legitimize their relationship so they could be married and he could become the prince of Genovia. Or she was pregnant. Or his life was in danger from foreign agents.   
  
The Genovian royal family had no comment. Mikey M never talked about his personal life. Neither Princess Amelia nor Mikey M had any close friends or confidantes who could go running to the press with the true story. So with no concrete facts to refute the stories, the press said what they wanted and the public became even more interested.   
  
No one knew that their "secret affair" consisted of one dance and one late-night planning session. Oh yes, and then there was the picture of the good-bye kiss. Whoever the photographer in the bushes was, he deserved every cent he sold the picture for. Mikey M was pleased to see that the kiss looked completely real and natural, as if they really were actually young lovers sneaking in one last kiss before she had to leave. People always saw what they wanted to see, and they chose to believe that Mikey M and Princess Amelia were madly, passionately in love.   
  
Mikey M had returned to France on Thursday. He had only enough time to send Mia a quick note reminding her of their arrangements for the awards ceremony on Saturday night before he had to leave for Monaco. Ted and Francine were now working with his logistics people to coordinate transportation and security for Mia, so her family must not be totally opposed to the arrangement. She probably told them that she was using him for the media attention. At least Grandmère would approve. Prince Phillipe was probably still waiting for Mikey M to make the wrong move so he could launch a missile at him.  
  
"Mia was supposed to be here by now. We're leaving as soon as she shows up," he announced to everyone in the hotel suite.   
  
All of his band members were wearing conservative black tuxedos on Mikey M's direct orders. They were accompanying a princess, so they were not going to look like a bunch of sloppy American punks. They were accomplished professional musicians. Mikey M wore a black tuxedo as well, complete with diamond cufflinks, a cane, a black silk top hat, and gloves. He always had to stand out at events, so he was dressed up tonight for a different century, when men were expected to dress for the evenings in black tie and tails.   
  
He was ready to face the cameras and act the part of the escort of the Princess of Genovia, if only Mia and René would show up. He paced around the room, checking his watch and jabbing at the furniture with the frivolous but stylish cane. He was not used to waiting for other people. And he was not used to feeling so nervous before something as unimportant as the International Music Awards. Piaget's Children had already won seven.  
  
The hotel room phone rang and he almost ran to get it himself. "That must be them," he said before Kristy had hung up. His friends obediently got up, probably fearful of what Mikey M would do to them if they didn't move fast enough. Kristy called after them that the limo was waiting by the front entrance.  
  
"I love the hat," René said when Mikey M came into the car. More accurately, René said, "J'aime le chapeau," then spoke in English to everyone else. "Did they need more waiters for tonight? You should have told me you were all going to be in costume. I would have worn my boring black tuxedo, too. But we'll have fun, right? You will win and then we will go out and celebrate."  
  
The limo was large enough to seat all seven of them, and Mikey M sat next to Mia, of course. He couldn't clearly see how she was dressed, but she had put some effort into looking good tonight. At present he could only see that her dress was long and white, but it showed promise of not being completely awful like most of the clothes the poor girl had been confining herself to.  
  
René and the others were making plans for the evening, consciously leaving Mikey M and Mia alone to talk to each other. So this was what dating Princess Amelia was going to be like. Crowded limos and tuxedos and more gossip items than usual, but nothing too far from normal. He could handle this for a month, no problem.  
  
"So are you excited about tonight?" Mia asked. "You're up for album of the year."  
  
He hadn't thought about the actual awards that were being given out. "I suppose we'll win that," he said.   
  
"You sound pretty confident about that."  
  
"I've been to tons of these things. I know what to expect."  
  
Or he had thought that he knew what to expect. He was used to getting a big reaction from the press when he arrived at awards shows, but he had never incited a full-scale riot before. The shouts from the press and the public roped off across the street turned into a roar the moment the limo doors opened. Mikey M got out first, then he turned and helped Mia out.   
  
The cameramen were pushing each other out of the way to get a picture of Princess Amelia and Mikey M together, ignoring all the security guards' reprimands about getting outside the press zone. The flashes went off everywhere. Reporters shouted so many questions that Mikey M couldn't think of how to answer any of them. The fans waiting outside the auditorium were taking about as many pictures as the professional photographers while making as much noise shouting as the reporters. The International Music Awards were broadcast live on network TV, so a cameraman and reporter were standing to the side, just as overwhelmed by the crowd's reaction as Mikey M was.   
  
No red-carpet interviews were going to be possible. He put his arm around Mia's shoulder and nearly shouted in her ear so she could hear, "The ropes won't keep these people back forever. We're just going in."  
  
Mia nodded and looked absolutely terrified for a moment. Their story was bigger than he had realized. The reporters would probably say something mean about them for not stopping to talk, but he didn't want Mia to face a crazy situation like this. He gave the TV reporter an apologetic shrug and guided his princess down the red carpet with only a few mock bows to the crowds.  
  
The others did not immediately follow them into the lobby, so that must mean they were giving the interviews and stopping for the pictures Mia and Mikey M had avoided. Good, it won't look like an intentional snub since their friends were being accommodating. The rest of Piaget's Children had their own loyal fans, and Prince René did have a reputation for being a fun playboy prince, but they weren't as big celebrities as Mikey M and Mia were now.  
  
"It's not usually like that, is it?" Mia asked when they were inside.   
  
"I didn't know it would be so bad. I'm sorry."  
  
"It was actually kind of exciting. I mean, no one usually cares about me."  
  
The lobby was crowded with people, but they were fellow musicians and other familiar people who had seen Mikey M enough for his presence not to be a big event. Mia got many inquisitive looks, but that was to be expected. She was a novelty.  
  
Mia didn't seem to notice the attention she was getting, or at least she did not let it affect her. Now that she had gotten over the shock of outside, she moved confidently through the crowd. She was a public figure, so she was used to attending functions. She lightly held onto Mikey M's sleeve for the sake of appearance, and he sometimes put his arm around her to guide her away from colliding with older people or inconveniently placed furniture, but they did not say much to each other. She wanted to look around and see who was there, and he accompanied her and exchanged greetings with the people he knew and respected.   
  
"I don't believe you've met my date, Princess Amelia Renaldo," he said again and again, tossing off her title as if it were of no significance to him. Let the others decide just how important she was to him.  
  
The top hat got a many remarks, and some people asked where he had gotten it. How many people would wear top hats to the next awards ceremony? So he knew he looked good. He gave up the hat and cane and Mia's shawl to the coatroom attendants, and then looked around for René and the rest of the band.  
  
"So what happens now?" Mia asked. "Do we go sit down yet? Other people are sitting down."  
  
He shook his head. "First we need to walk around the lobby so more people can admire your dress. We should have been stopped by the TV cameras by now. I'll talk to them, you don't have to. Then we have to be shown to our seats. They'll be by the aisle close to the front so the cameras can get good shots of our reactions during the show."  
  
"Plus you'll have to be able to get up to the stage to accept the awards you say you're going to win." She thought she was joking, but that was an actual consideration by the show coordinators in choosing his seat.   
  
"I'm guaranteed to be up there at least once. I'm presenting the Best Newcomer award."   
  
Presenting a category of awards was just one of the duties he was expected to perform as a major personality in the music industry. It had seemed like an honor to be asked the first time. Now it was just an accepted part of the ritual of attending an awards ceremony.   
  
Everything was still new to Mia, so she was surprised to hear about that. "You didn't mention that before."  
  
"It's no big deal. I read the teleprompter and open an envelope. I'm used to being on stage these days."  
  
"I know," Mia said in a lower voice. "It's still so strange that you were … you know, you, and now you're … all this. I'm still trying to get used to …"  
  
He nodded. She didn't need to spell it out to him. She still thought of Michael Moscovitz as the nerdy, computer guy. She had never thought he was capable of becoming a huge star. She used to be crazy about him in high school, but she had underestimated him. Everyone had. He had underestimated himself.  
  
Well, Mia was going to have to get used to the new him, especially since they were "dating" again. He was someone important and powerful in the music industry. He smiled for cameras, talked to reporters, sat where he was told to sit, and presented and accepted awards. She may have her duties and responsibilities as the future ruler of Genovia, but he had plenty of duties and responsibilities of his own.  
  
"Alors, on y va?" René looked like he was already having a great time. Hopefully he hadn't gossiped too much about Mia and Mikey M. The rest of Piaget's Children were close behind him.  
  
"We're not going in yet," Mia said. "Michael wants to talk to the TV people. I mean, Mikey M."  
  
René did not think her slip meant anything significant. He looked around the crowded lobby and said, "You'll be on TV enough during the show, old friend. Let these people have their chance now. I want to see what seats they give Piaget's Children."  
  
Where Piaget's Children led, everyone else followed. If they decided it was time to sit down, so did everyone else. Mikey M sat on the aisle, with Mia on his left, René next to her, and then the rest of the band in the row immediately behind them. They stayed seated and other people came over to them to be introduced to Mikey M's famous new girlfriend. He was very polite to everyone he knew and Mia smiled nicely at everyone, but he was getting tired of being stared at. He was very thankful for when the cameras were all in place and the International Music Awards could begin.  
  
The hosts for all big awards shows always had to be comedians, and they always had to find targets in the most prominent people present. Within the first few minutes of the show, the host had already made at least a dozen jokes about the gossip about Mikey M and Mia. "We thank the royal family of Monaco for welcoming us all here tonight. They've even promised to give Mikey M a big head start before sending their army after him." "Queen Latifah wants Mikey M to know that she's still available if he's interested in trading up." "Seriously, now, where is Genovia, anyway? Did Mikey M's publicist make it up?"  
  
If Mia did not like being laughed at on international television, she hid it well. She laughed and sometimes turned to make certain he was smiling, too. She enthusiastically clapped and cheered for the artists she liked who won. She was actually having fun.  
  
Piaget's Children won for the Best Rock Performance category, and Mikey M went up to accept it by himself. His acceptance speech was very brief: "The guys and I thank you for this new pretty piece of metal and wood to put on our shelves."   
  
It was not long before it was time for him to present the Best Newcomer award. He left the others and went backstage during a pause for a commercial break. There was a screen in the wing backstage showing the televised ceremony, so while Mikey M waited for his turn to go out, he could watch what was happening on stage. During a performance by some temporarily popular boy band, the camera panned slowly across the audience. He didn't even realize that he was looking for Mia until he saw her there, looking uncomfortable and talking quietly with a well-dressed older gentleman who was now sitting in Mikey M's seat. Who was that?   
  
Mikey M called over one of the administrative people running around backstage and said, "Could you Princess Amelia back here?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Princess Amelia Renaldo. The tall blonde I was sitting with. I shouldn't have left her alone. So could you get her? Please."  
  
He turned to look at the monitor again to see whether Mia was still talking to the stranger. He didn't realize the jazz singer Genette Lordes, another ex-girlfriend, was standing next to him until she said, "I don't think you ever checked up on me like that."  
  
He never went out with women he did not genuinely like, and he still thought Genette was a nice girl. She was too smart to ever fall in love with him, so they had managed to stay friends after the end of their public romance two years ago. So he did not mind running in to her again, and he would let her joke about their shared past.  
  
"You didn't need to be looked after. Princess Amelia is used to diplomats and state dinners."  
  
There was another brief shot of the audience, just long enough for him to notice a woman in white headed towards stage left. Good.   
  
"I like her dress," Genette said. "I didn't realize she was pretty."  
  
He nodded and turned from the TV monitor to be able to see the door from the auditorium. He was in the entertainment industry, so he dealt with stunningly beautiful women all the time. Mia was not stunning, even in an elegant gown and make-up. But she was pretty, yes, and she was much more than that. She was a princess.  
  
The door finally opened and Mia came in. She looked around and smiled when she spotted him. She walked over to him and said, "Wow, so this is the backstage of the International Music Awards. Do you go on next?"  
  
"I saw you out there," he said, waving at the TV monitor. "You're all right?"  
  
"Oh, that was nothing. I have relatives in Monaco," she said stiffly. He still wanted to know who the man was and what he had been saying, but if she did not want to tell him, he wouldn't ask. She was part of the Grimaldi family, so of course she would have connections to Monaco's royal family.   
  
Genette stepped forward and said, "You're Princess Amelia? I'm Genette Lordes."  
  
Mia immediately forgot about what family problems that had been worrying her and said, "Wow, Genette Lordes! You're so awesome. I love your last album."  
  
"You can ask Genette for her autograph some other time," Mikey M said. Some backstage assistants were waving frantically at him and he was being introduced from the loudspeaker system as the presenter for the Best Newcomer award. He couldn't drag Mia from her seat and then leave her backstage, especially with an ex-girlfriend of his. He said, "That's our cue. We'll talk to you later, Genette."  
  
"Our?" Mia asked.   
  
He wasn't going to give her time to protest. He took a hold of her hand and said, "Stay by me. Don't worry. You don't have to say a thing."  
  
She looked like she had a lot more to say, but she still followed him past the confused backstage assistants and onto stage. Mikey M had already been up there to accept one award and hadn't thought it was anything special. Now he was fully aware of just how big the auditorium was and just how many people were watching them. He wasn't supposed to be there with Mia, but he knew the awards show coordinators would have no complaints. Mia and he were big news now. The announcer on the loudspeaker came on again and added, "With Mikey M is Princess Amelia of …"  
  
They were at the podium now. Mia was in her public princess mode, with perfect posture and a friendly smile. He was certain she had to be nervous, but she knew she was being watched by thousands of people. She laughed at the announcer's pause and said, "Genovia. Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo of Genovia. Genovia is just to the south of Monaco. It's a beautiful little country."  
  
Before she could start talking about Genovia's beaches, Mikey M put his arm around her waist, which surprised her enough to make her stop talking for long enough for him to start reading from the teleprompter about the admirable qualities of all the nominees for the Best Newcomer award.  
  
"You read that last part wrong," Mia said in a low voice that was, naturally, picked up by the microphones everywhere.  
  
He was supposed to begin reading off the list of nominees, but first he turned to Mia and said, "No I didn't. Anyway, the nominees are—"  
  
"I'm standing here reading your lines. You should have said—"  
  
"Mia…" he groaned. He was the big rock star at a televised awards ceremony, and he was bickering on stage with his girlfriend. And the audience was laughing. It was the only unstaged part of the ceremony, and then Mikey M realized that Mia knew exactly what she was doing. She was playing to the audience. Fine, he could do the same.  
  
"If I'm not doing this right, you do it," he said. He stepped back so she could have a better view of the teleprompter. She gave a regal toss of her head and started reading. She was a much better public speaker now than she used to be. No stumbles, no obvious signs that she was just reading lines from a screen. She was used to this sort of thing.  
  
At the end of the list of nominees, she reached for the envelope with the name of the winner. Mikey M shook his head and said, "This is my job. You can open the envelope after you win a few Grammys, OK, Princess?"  
  
When Piaget's Children won for Album of the Year, he kissed her in plain view of the surrounding audience members and the TV cameras, and then went on stage with the rest of the band. He let the others say their thank yous during the allotted time for an acceptance speech. When he turned down his chance to say something, Jim said, "Mikey M just wants to get off stage and get back to Mia," and the audience laughed.   
  
After the awards show, Mikey M had to go to many post-show parties and Mia had to return to Genovia. He led her to her limo in front of the auditorium and kissed her quickly before she went into the car. The public outside went wild just from a short kiss.   
  
To think this was merely the first week of their "relationship". It was perfect. Their plan would work. The Genovians would better appreciate their princess, and he would be able to put aside that part of his past for good. He would be able to permanently end his involvement with Mia without the anguish and heartbreak from seven years ago. Just three more weeks to go.  
  
-----  
  
(Author's note: Sorry about the delay in getting this part out. Schoolwork always gets in the way. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews. You people are great. The next part will be up next week. Thanks for reading!) 


	12. On Display, pt 2

Chapter 9 (cont.) – On Display, pt 2  
  
After a woman spends a long evening trying to reinvent her public persona on live television, she would really like to sleep in until noon. But no, Mia had to be up before ten o'clock because her family was psychotic.  
  
Oncle Luc sat in an arm chair in the Golden Salon in the Genovian Palace. Tante Jean Marie, Tante Christine, and Tante Emilie sat in a row on the couch. The Genovian royal family's press secretary, who was also a cousin, was sitting on a loveseat next to Francine. Prince Phillipe stood by the door and looked like he would rather be on the other side of it. Grandmère had gotten up early for the family meeting and sat in a stiff-backed chair in the center of the room. Mia reluctantly was sitting next to her in a similarly uncomfortable chair.   
  
Oncle Luc was the most agitated of the assembled people. "The princess of Genovia was acting like a common … groupie! Even when Felix said something to her about her behavior, she went on stage in front of everyone and acted … very undignified."   
  
She was still mad at Oncle Felix Grimaldi for going all the way over to where she was sitting at the International Music Awards and telling her that she should not be there. What did he expect her to do? Leave while Michael was on stage? Yeah, like no one would have noticed that. "Princess Amelia Abandons Boyfriend."   
  
Luckily René was the only other person who heard Oncle Felix's brief lecture on the proper conduct of nobility. Mia didn't want the entire world to know what her family thought of what she was doing. René had distracted their older relative while Mia had made her escape to see Mikey M backstage, but that didn't keep Oncle Felix from calling all the family in Genovia and demanding that they look after Mia better.  
  
"I didn't do anything really terrible," Mia said. She got a lot of publicity and everyone seemed to really like her. She was usually very formal and stiff when she was making a public appearance, but with Michael there, she felt she could relax. It wasn't her show; it was his. So she was able to just be herself and laugh. It was fun.  
  
"That boyfriend, where is he?" old Tante Jean Marie asked. "He's very good-looking."   
  
Mia did her very best not to smile. Even her senile old great-aunt knew that Mikey M was gorgeous. The top hat last night was charming. Sure, she had been a princess for the last eleven years, but he was able to make her feel like she was in the middle of a fairytale. He played his role of temporary consort very well.   
  
The only family members who knew about the Michael Moscovitz/Mikey M connection were Francine, Prince Phillippe, and Grandmère, and no one was going to tell the other relatives why he was automatically unacceptable. So Grandmère merely said, "He is not our concern."  
  
Oncle Luc shook his head mournfully. "A rock star, Amelia, what were you thinking? The Grimaldis have been wanting the Renaldos to do something like this ever since Clarisse disapproved of their Princess Grace."  
  
Mia wanted to say something in Mikey M's defense, but one glance at her father was enough to make her change her mind about that. The mere allusion to Michael was enough to make Prince Phillipe mad. Before Oncle Luc could continue lamenting Mia's injudicious choice of boyfriend, Phillipe said, "The problem here is our family's appearance to the outside press. We cannot stay silent about Mia's behavior forever. As the royal family of Genovia, we must take a stance." He waited until he was certain he had the attention of everyone in the room, then said very solemnly, "And I say we should support her."  
  
"Cool!" Oops, she hadn't meant to say that out loud. But she was still very pleased not to have her entire family against what she was doing, because there was no way she was going to give up now that she had begun the fun little farce as the cool, adored girlfriend of the hottest music celebrity in the world.  
  
Prince Phillipe still did not look very pleased with the idea, but he continued, "We know Mia's relationship with the musician is not going to turn into anything serious. She will still be expected to behave in a manner suitable for someone in her position."  
  
"Amelia does not know how to handle so much attention," Tante Christine said very severely. She was another old great-aunt who probably thought that the end of arranged marriages was a bad idea. Mia had never had any real complaints about Tante Christine, but she certainly would from now on if Tante Christine thought she couldn't look after herself.  
  
"I'm not doing this alone. I have Ted and Francine. And Piaget's Children, they're all really good with this sort of thing." Mia did not want to bring any more attention to Mikey M's role in all of this.   
  
The press secretary said, "Would you like to release a statement from the royal family?"  
  
Oncle Luc shook his head no. "That would look like we approve of her rock-and-roll friends."  
  
"Do they do drugs?" Tante Jean Marie asked. "I hear the Beatles use drugs."   
  
Why couldn't all relatives be nice and senile like Tante Jean Marie? Tante Emilie was still in full possession of her senses, but she always agreed with whatever Mia's dad decided. She spoke in a very soft, gentle voice and said, "Amelia is a good girl. She won't cause her family any more trouble than she has to, right, dear?"  
  
Mia enthusiastically agreed. "You bet. I'll be good, don't worry."   
  
The Genovian royal family's press office did release a very short statement saying that the family supported Princess Amelia in all that she did, but Mia knew what it really meant. So long as she didn't really embarrass herself, they'd leave her alone and defend her to the Grimaldis and the rest of the family. But if she really screwed up, it would be her own fault.   
  
It was still a minor victory. After she had heard more of Tante Jean Marie's thoughts on her "good-looking boyfriend", Mia went to her office to talk with Ted and Francine. Ted had been barred from attending the family discussion, and he had used that time to gather a large stack of newspapers. Mia and Mikey M were in them all.  
  
"How'd I do?" she asked.  
  
Ted handed her the entertainment section of Genovia's daily paper. "Look at it. You were great."  
  
The main story on the front page was about the International Music Awards. There was a big picture of Mia and Mikey M on stage together, him standing right behind her and smiling while she was reading. Geez, no wonder her family was so alarmed. They really did look like a happy couple. The caption for the picture said: "Princess Amelia made her first public appearance with her beau, Mikey M of Piaget's Children. Piaget's Children won awards for Best Rock Performance and Album of the Year."   
  
The Genovian press had not covered the gossip about Mia and Mikey M beyond one letter to the editor criticizing the Genovian royal family for not debunking the rumors about the princess. Now the paper was treating their relationship as if it were nothing special at all. Didn't they think it remotely interesting that Prince Phillipe would not let Mikey M into Genovia, and Mia was appearing at awards shows with him?  
  
"Is that it?" Mia asked.  
  
"There's more about you at the end," Ted said.  
  
She turned to the next page to the end of the coverage of the event. "No Genovian musicians were nominated for any award, but Genovia was represented at the ceremony by Princess Amelia and Prince René, who were both present as guests of Piaget's Children. The royal family had no comment to make on Princess Amelia's budding romance with Mikey M of Piaget's Children."  
  
"Wow, that's all? What about the editorial page? Any mean letters to the editor?"  
  
"Maybe they didn't stay up late enough to see the show," Ted said.   
  
Francine did not look as confident. "They could be in tomorrow's paper."  
  
It wasn't an enthusiastic acceptance of Mia's new social life, but it was better than nothing. People didn't violently oppose her dating Mikey M! Her first impulse was to call Michael and tell him the good news, but she knew she couldn't. He was still in Monaco, and, besides, he was already doing so much for her. She couldn't bother him with all the ups and downs of her press coverage. This was her problem. His main concern was Piaget's Children's next album.  
  
"So what's on my schedule for today? Dinner out or at home?"  
  
Ted handed her the day's official schedule and said, "Nothing public. Some government types are coming to dinner, but you know them all."  
  
"Then after dinner I'll go over to Mirabeau. Can you arrange for a car, Ted? And tell them to expect me. Everyone should be home by then."  
  
She hadn't realized that Grandmère had come into the room, but Grandmère never silently stood in the corner. She now sat down in a chair in the middle of the room and said, "Yes, run over to Mirabeau and chase after your rock star. Don't think of what your family would have to say."  
  
Ted and Francine knew to leave the room whenever Grandmère appeared to speak to Mia, so they quickly disappeared and closed the door behind them. Mia had thought that the family discussions were over, but she should have known that Grandmère would be difficult to appease.  
  
"You heard what Dad said. My family supports me."   
  
"This week, yes, we will let you do what you please. Besides, you are getting good publicity." She picked up the top newspaper on Ted's stack and nodded. "Sebastiano made you the dress, didn't he? He has wanted you to change your wardrobe for years. He's right."  
  
It was so typical of Grandmère to give all the credit to other people. Mia was the one who asked him to have a dress made ready for her on short notice. She told him which dress was acceptable and which were too daring for her. She was the one deciding on the new clothes, not her cousin.  
  
Grandmère put the paper down and said, "It's about time Genovians recognized that you are a woman now and no longer a misbehaving child. But what will they think if you chase after celebrities like René? Your father has also shown abysmal taste in women. You must be different. You must show more discretion in your boyfriends. You must be looking for a prince consort, after all."  
  
"So you want me to dump Mikey M after, like, a week and go look for a prince? Sure, that's going to make me look great, Grandmère. I'm not going to marry Michael, but he's a friend. And he's getting me all this press. I mean, no one usually cares about me."  
  
"You must be careful with him. What will happen when people find out who he really is? He cannot keep his identity a secret forever. Then what will people say about you? You rejected him when he was nothing, then when he became famous you used him for publicity."   
  
"No one is going to recognize him any time soon," Mia stated with more certainty than she felt.   
  
Grandmère was stretching everything the wrong way. She was making it look like Mia was doing something wrong. She never let Mia have any fun. Worst of all, she was right. Mia really was using Mikey M for publicity, but it was with his consent. It was all his idea, but no one else knew that.   
  
Grandmère smiled and knew she had won, like usual. Now Mia was going to worry about this for the rest of the day. She was letting everyone think she had been swept off her feet by a handsome rock star, when really she was just trying to get herself written about in the gossip columns. She was going to look terrible. Hopefully no one would ever, ever recognize Mikey M, and their secret would only be revealed in the tell-all biography written years after her death.  
  
Grandmére wasn't done spreading terror for the day. She got up from her chair and said, "The Italian prime minister and his family are coming on Wednesday. There will be a formal dinner party that you are expected to attend. All the family will be there. René cannot come, of course, because the Italians have treated him so horribly. So you could bring your boyfriend to take his place."  
  
She made it sound like it was the most ordinary request in the world, when it was clearly the dumbest, craziest idea ever.   
  
"You can't be serious, Grandmère. Dad will be there."  
  
"Tell your young man that he won't be arrested for entering the country. The Italian prime minister specifically asked whether Mikey M would be there. Your father said to invite him."  
  
Her dad was inviting Michael to dinner in Genovia? It was a terrible idea. Everyone knew that Prince Phillipe and Mikey M hated each other. Prince Phillipe could release a hundred statements saying the family approved of "Princess Amelia's behavior", but that didn't take away the very real fact that her father wanted Michael thrown in jail for breaking into the Genovian embassy seven years ago.   
  
But maybe if her family saw how good Mia and Mikey M looked together, they wouldn't give her such a hard time about their relationship. Maybe Oncle Luc, Tante Christine, and the others would even like Mikey M. He could be very charming. And he did say that he would even go to Genovia for her, so, well, maybe if he didn't object…   
  
Fine. She would invite him. Give him the option of refusing. Once Grandmère had left, Mia sat down and wrote a message to send to Mirabeau. 


	13. A Dinner Party

(Note: This section turned out longer than I had expected, so here's an entire chapter all at once. Thanks for reading!)  
  
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Chapter 10 – A Dinner Party  
  
The last time the Italian prime minister visited Genovia, he had stayed for about an hour before getting back into his car and continuing his way to Paris. When Mia had first heard about this visit months ago, she had been told that Prime Minister Ferrero would be coming for an afternoon meeting and would remain for dinner. It would be the first time Signor Ferrero stayed long enough in Genovia for a meal. Then plans were changed in the few days prior to his arrival, and the single meeting and dinner were stretched into a full two-day visit, with Signor and Signora Ferrero and their three daughters. The daughters did not often come along for diplomatic visits, so this was interpreted as a major gesture of goodwill and friendship from Italy.  
  
Prince Phillip and the Prime Minister spent the first day in meetings at the Genovian Parliament building, so that left Mia to entertain the rest of the Ferrero family at the palace by herself. She had met the Prime Minister's wife at other official functions. Signora Ferrero was a woman of good taste and excellent manners, but she had little interest in politics and even less interest in Genovia. Mia was used to dull afternoons spent making polite conversation with the spouses of foreign leaders, but the addition of the young and vivacious Ferrero daughters meant that there was never any shortage of conversation.  
  
As soon as they were all left alone in the Golden Salon, the youngest of the girls, Eliana, asked, "Where's Mikey M? Papa said he was going to be here."   
  
"Don't be rude, Eliana. You know he is forbidden to enter Genovia without the explicit permission of Prince Phillipe." The oldest, Luisa, then turned from scolding her little sister to give Mia a sympathetic smile. "We think it is a very tragic situation for you, Amelia. We admire your courage. Your love will help you through this very difficult time."  
  
Mia did her very best not to laugh at the show of support and encouragement from the Ferreros. "Mikey M will be here for dinner."  
  
The middle daughter, Mina, said, "He shows great restraint staying away from you when the only barrier is the invisible line separating France and Genovia. He must love you very much to comply with your father's impossible demands."  
  
Mia seriously doubted that Mikey M would have been around more even if he were allowed to enter Genovia. Her father's edict gave him a good excuse to stay at Mirabeau and work on his music. Mia was the one who had to go out of her way to visit him in the evening so everyone would think that they were really a couple.   
  
Oh, and what exciting times they had together at Mirabeau. Sunday and Monday evenings were spent hanging out with Felix, Ansel, Angus, Jim, and Jen while Skip and Mikey M talked together about some technical matters concerning their temporary recording studio at Mirabeau. Last night everyone made certain that she could have some time alone with Mikey M. That meant that she got to read a magazine while he worked on some lyrics for a new song. He wouldn't even let her read what he was working on because, as he gruffly said, "It's not finished yet." Yeah, it was a really romantic evening with her boyfriend.   
  
When other people were around, she really thought that Michael and she were friends again, and it was cool. Sometimes he even tricked her into thinking that he really did care for her, on some level, still. He would sit next to her and put his arm around her, and sometimes he'd lean over and kiss her for no reason, just like a real boyfriend should. If he was in a different part of the room, he'd still keep her in sight and notice who she was talking to. Every now and then when she caught him watching they would smile at each other.   
  
But things changed as soon as the other people left. Then he was back to being the too-cool rock star who was doing a huge favor for Princess Amelia because he felt sorry for her. She wanted to know about what Lilly was doing and how he handled keeping in touch with his family back in America, but she respected the distance he wanted to maintain between them. He really was the super-popular celebrity, after all, and he really was doing a huge favor by moving his recording studio to Mirabeau and taking time out of his busy schedule to pretend to be her boyfriend. The least she could do was let him work on his music when people weren't watching them.  
  
"Mikey M is a really understanding guy," Mia told the Ferrero girls. "He's way better than I deserve, really."  
  
"Of course he'd do anything to see her. He loves her. Love conquers all!" Eliana proclaimed.   
  
Mia smiled blandly and then asked Signora Ferrero about the newest production of "Il Trovatore" at La Scala in Milan. That was a much safer conversation topic than Mikey M's great love for her. Unfortunately the Ferrero daughters had more questions about Mikey M and more proclamations about Love. Mia was very, very relieved when they all separated to prepare for dinner.  
  
There would be no one there to take her picture, but Mia still wanted to look good for the dinner party. It was not a publicity event for Mikey M and her; this time the people she had to impress were her relatives and Genovian government officials. The Genovian people showed signs of accepting her very public relationship with Mikey M, but the most important influences in her life were still her family and her future colleagues. She needed them to respect her as an individual capable of making her own decisions about her life, and that included making decisions about her personal life.  
  
So she needed everyone to think that her decision to date Mikey M was a fantastic idea. Everyone had to see that their relationship was a complete success. And she wanted to look pretty. Come on, if she wanted people to think she belonged next to Mikey M, she had to look really, really good.   
  
There was not enough time before dinner for the extensive cosmetic surgery that would be necessary to transform boring Mia into a woman as beautiful as Mikey M's many, many ex-girlfriends, but she did have her cousin Sebastiano working nearly full-time on making her new clothes. Sebastiano still tried to get her to wear more vivid and daring clothes, but he listened to her instructions and had prepared for her a long, sleek black dress that her extended family and the most conservative of cabinet ministers could not object to, but that still accentuated the curves she did have and made her feel very elegant. Plus she had really sexy shoes, even if the heels made her feel like a six-foot-tall giantess. Michael was tall, so it would be OK.  
  
She owned tons of jewelry accumulated by generations of Genovian princesses. She didn't ever wear much more than earrings and sometimes a necklace, but this was a formal dinner with the leader of a very large neighboring country. It was a special occasion. And she had to look really, really good for Michael. So she picked out a matching set of a diamond necklace, bracelet, and earrings. Who knows how much they were worth or how they found their way into Mia's possession, but they were absolutely dazzling. If she couldn't be dazzling on her own, she could get the desired effect with the help of her jewelry box.  
  
For once she actually liked the way she looked. She wasn't afraid of what other people would say; she couldn't wait to see everyone's reaction. She looked great.  
  
But before she could make her grand entrance at the drawing room, she was side-tracked by Francine worrying about the placement of people during dinner and they spent twenty minutes running around rearranging the name cards to maximize the distance between Mikey M and Prince Phillipe while minimizing the distance between Mia and her date. By the time they had a suitable arrangement, Mia was a half hour late for her own dinner party. Some hostess she was. Her father could be strangling Michael by now, and she was wasting time worrying about which family members would be the least likely to object to being seated by a mere musician when the Prime Minister of Italy was visiting.  
  
Mia didn't want everyone to notice just how late she was, so she entered the drawing room from a side entrance far from where her father and grandmother were. Grandmère still loved to step in to play the role of hostess when Mia was not around. Everything looked like it was going well. There were lots of people there, all people she knew and even liked. But she wasn't counting to see how many more cabinet ministers were still expected. She had to find Mikey M.  
  
"Amelia, there you are." Oncle Luc kissed the air above her cheeks and took her arm. "Your father wondered where you were."  
  
"I had to deal with some details—" She looked around for Mikey M, but the room was very crowded and there were many dark-haired men in tuxedos in the crowd, though none of them were the dark-haired man she was looking for.   
  
Oncle Luc didn't notice that she was looking for anyone, or if he noticed he chose not to. "Clarisse has been at the door with Phillipe, but she should sit down. I was going to send someone to find you if you took much longer to get here."   
  
It wasn't like Mia could argue with her uncle, especially when he was trying to protect Grandmère's health. She let herself be led through the crowds and right to the part of the room where Mikey M was guaranteed not to be, the main entrance with her father.  
  
"Hi Grandmère, hi Dad, sorry I'm late." Mia didn't think that her grandmother looked at all ready to fall over from the exhaustion of standing by the door for a half hour, but she knew her place was there with her family.  
  
"What on earth are you wearing?" Prince Phillipe immediately said as soon as he saw her there. This was not the reaction Mia had been hoping for. Her father made it sound like she had shown up in her underwear or in a clown suit.  
  
Grandmère did not react so sharply. She nodded and said, "Sebastiano's design, isn't it? He's done other dresses of that cut, but the necklines are usually lower. You were at Sebastiano's spring collection fashion show, Phillipe, so don't pretend you haven't seen the dress before."  
  
"I wasn't talking about the dress. If you haven't noticed, Mother, you could buy a small island with the amount of jewelry Mia is wearing. Where on earth did you get all that, Mia? Who gave it to you?"  
  
Grandmère actually came to Mia's defense. "Really, Phillipe, one could buy a large island with the Renaldo diamonds. They were a gift from Napoleon Bonaparte to Princess Guinevere Renaldo in 1810. You'd think you'd recognize some of the family's most prized heirlooms."  
  
Why didn't anyone ever tell Mia things like that? She had thought that the diamonds were very pretty, but now she was going to be afraid of accidentally breaking a clasp or losing an earring and having her family hate her forever. Normal people would put artifacts from the Napoleonic era in a museum and not in an ordinary jewelry box. OK, so the Renaldo women kept their jewelry box in the treasury of the royal palace in a big safe that had a guard standing by it at all times, but Lars told her once that the guards were not armed and the safe was pretty old and the hinges squeaked.   
  
"Umm, Prime Minister Ferrero has never had dinner in Genovia before, so I thought it was a big enough occasion to, umm, you know, wear jewelry," Mia said, but her father no longer looked concern now that he knew the diamonds were from Napoleon. He couldn't think that Michael would be giving her jewelry yet. They've only been officially dating for a week and a half.   
  
Oncle Luc insisted that Grandmère had to sit down, so that left Mia and her dad by the door. "So who are we still waiting for?" Mia asked. She didn't dare look around at the few dozen people present to see whether Mikey M was there, not while she was standing next to her father. She didn't want him to know how much she really, really wanted to know where Michael was.  
  
"Our guest of honor is supposed to be on his way down. Signora Ferrero and the girls are already down here."   
  
He gestured vaguely to the far corner of the room where Mia could see the tall, stylish figure of the wife of the Italian Prime Minister. She also quickly picked out Eliana, Mina, and Luisa Ferrero. They were the only people present younger than Mia. When having tea in the Golden Salon, Mia hadn't realized just how pretty they were, but when dressed up and surrounded by lots of boring politicians and older members of the Renaldo family, the Ferrero girls really stood out as beauties. They didn't need a few million dollars of diamonds. They had faces that could be on the cover of fashion magazines, figures to die for, and dresses that left little to the imagination. They were confident, sexy, and aggressively outgoing, and, of course, just to make Mia feel even better about herself, they were all over Mikey M.  
  
Absolutely fantastic.   
  
It was her own fault for inviting him. She should have known better. Hell, he should know better. He wasn't playing his role of dutiful boyfriend very well when it really, really mattered to her. She didn't blame the Ferreros for just being themselves. They were probably telling Michael about how wonderful it was for him to be so loyal to Mia. But it looked like, well, Mia didn't like the way it looked at all.  
  
"I'd better go, umm, pay my respects."   
  
She didn't wait for her dad to give her permission to drag the Italian sluts away from her boyfriend. No, no, they weren't really sluts, even if they were allowed to behave that way in front of the most respectable members of the Genovian high society. They were nice girls. Mia liked them. Really. But they should behave with more decorum. They should not whisper things in Mikey M's ear. They should not playfully tug on his sleeve. They should keep their hands off of Mia's boyfriend.  
  
Eliana Ferrero didn't release her hold on him when she saw Mia, but she did look genuinely pleased to see Mia and said, "Here's your princess! You were missing her, weren't you? He missed you, Amelia. He's been stuck with us."  
  
Mia couldn't tell what Mikey M thought about being "stuck" with the Ferreros since, as usual, he didn't show any hint of what he was really thinking as he stood there surrounded by beautiful young women. He somehow managed to gently escape from the grip of the girls and he walked over to Mia's side. Yes, that was much more acceptable boyfriend behavior. Mia tried not to look too pleased at her minor victory over the Ferreros. They may have natural beauty and sexiness, but she still had her secret deal with Mikey M. Plus she was a princess, whereas Signor Ferrero would be out of power within a few years. Oh, and she had the Renaldo diamonds. And a palace. And a country.  
  
"Signora Ferrero saved me when I came in," Mikey M said. Mia had thought that the Prime Minister's wife was an unfriendly, overly formal woman, but she seemed to actually smile when Mikey M mentioned her. How had he managed to win her over in a half hour when Mia had spent an entire day with her without making much progress?  
  
"There was a moment – when he saw that you weren't here, Amelia – when he looked like he wanted to just turn around and go back home," Luisa said. "Mom was also coming in and she knew who he was, of course. We came here to meet him, after all."  
  
"You came just to meet Mikey M?" Mia asked. That sounded like a slight to the Renaldo family and to Genovia in general, but it also sounded kind of funny. Her father and her grandmother were so pleased that the Ferreros were coming, and it was all really thanks to Mia's unacceptable boyfriend.  
  
Signora Ferrero was not as blunt as her daughters, so she more properly said something about her husband's government affairs and their wanting to see Genovia again, but the daughters made it quite clear that their mother was lying. They came for him, and they were not disappointed.  
  
"If only you could sing for us," Mina said with a truly melancholy sigh. "But Prince Phillipe would not allow it, would he? Papa could request, couldn't he? Papa says that he can get Prince Phillipe to agree to anything. Italy is so much bigger than Genovia, after all."  
  
"Mina!" Signora Ferrero snapped, but her daughter did not see anything wrong in what she had said.   
  
Mia's father would not be pushed around by other countries just because Genovia was small. They were independent and acted on their own. When Napoleon was conquering Europe, he left Genovia on its own because of his respect for the Renaldo family. When France and Italy fell to the Nazis in World War II, Genovia stayed independent. Now they were members of the UN and the EU, but that didn't mean that they had to give up their spirit of defiant independence for the sake of international cooperation.  
  
Mia had to be the proper hostess, so she shouldn't say what she really thought about Mina Ferrero's assessment of the relationship between their two countries. She could only grind her teeth and hope the girl would be quiet. She didn't expect Mikey M to say exactly what she wanted to say: "Your father should visit Genovia more often if that's what he thinks."   
  
"You've offended them, you idiot," Luisa said to her sister. "Apologize."  
  
It really was impossible to stay mad at the Ferreros for long. Mina looked genuinely contrite and said, "I am sorry. Papa says the same thing about Switzerland, and he's wrong about them, too. You forgive me?"  
  
"Of course," Mia said. Mina waited until Mikey M nodded his agreement, then she kissed them both and pointed out that their father had finally arrived. As the hostess, Mia should go and say hi, but the Ferrero females had a head start and left Mia and Mikey M together in the far corner of the room.  
  
"Sorry I was late," Mia said.  
  
"That's OK. Your dad didn't have to say anything to me, and your grandmother could only glare at my shoes when the Ferreros took me away. They're all nice girls but, well, not quite my style."  
  
Not his style? They were beautiful and popular, and they'd look good as a date to any of the high-profile parties that Mikey M was always attending. They sounded like they were exactly his style of female companion these days. But still, Mia was glad that he had gotten into the party without having to really deal with her father and grandmother. And there really wasn't anything wrong with his shoes. He was in a black tuxedo like all the other men there, but, somehow, he still could look ten times better than anyone else in the same clothes. Maybe it was his hair or his eyes or something, but he really was the hottest guy present. That wasn't really too surprising. Finance ministers are rarely as good-looking as rock stars.  
  
"It kind of looked bad when I came in and saw you, you know, with them."  
  
He laughed. "Don't tell me you were jealous."  
  
"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. It's just that I was with my dad and then I saw you and, um…"  
  
"Your nostrils flare when you're lying. Remember?"  
  
There was no way her nostrils were flaring because she was completely not lying. Maybe she was going to sneeze soon, or maybe it was just a muscle spasm in her nose. There was no way she had been jealous of them. She was merely concerned about what other people would think.  
  
Before she could formulate a good response to his totally unfair and untrue accusation, he was kissing her on the lips in front of everyone. How was she supposed to defend herself when he was surprising her by doing things like that? It was just a quick kiss, over before she could think of pulling away, nothing terribly improper or out of place, merely unexpected.  
  
"That probably just added ten more years to my prison sentence when your dad gets a hold of me," Mikey M said. He sounded far too smug, like he was the one in control of everything. Mia resented that. She resented that so much that she leaned in and kissed him again, longer than his first kiss. It was just to prove to him that she was just as capable as he was to surprise him. But there was something about having his lips on hers that made even the most chaste kiss with him seem like… something special.   
  
He was the first to pull away. "What's Grandmère going to say about that?"   
  
"She'll say I'm encouraging you too much."  
  
"She'd be right. I may start getting ideas above my station."  
  
Now that the Italian Prime Minister was present, the doors were opened for everyone to go into the dining room. No one seemed to have noticed what Mia was doing. What was the point of their being affectionate in public if no one was watching? Well, they would have all night to show everyone just how great of a relationship they had.  
  
At dinner, Mia sat next to her father at the head of the table. Mikey M was seated about six places away from her, so he wasn't completely out of sight in the large banquet hall but he was too far away for Prince Phillipe to hear what he was saying. Unfortunately in the noisy, crowded room, he was also too far for Mia to hear what he was saying. He was seated between Tante Jean Marie, who was probably asking him all about his other rock star friends like Elvis and Nirvana, and cousin Sebastiano, who seemed to have a lot to say about Mikey M's dinner jacket. Mia assumed that he approved of it since they seemed to all be laughing and smiling and generally having a great time. The Minister of Culture was seated across from them, and she often joined in their laughter and conversation. So did a junior Secretary of Finance and Oncle Luc. What were they talking about? Mia only half followed what was being said around her and tried to hear fragments of what was being said around Mikey M's part of the table.  
  
After dinner, the guests were all ushered back into the drawing room for after-dinner cocktails. Mia didn't waste time hanging around her dad this time. He could deal with entertaining Signor and Signora Ferrero by himself. Mia went straight to the mass of people surrounding her charming date.  
  
"Hey, Mia, you didn't abandon me after all," he said. The aunts and female government officials laughed. She should have known Mikey M would have completely won over all the women present.  
  
"I have to make certain you don't embarrass the Renaldo family. You are here as my guest, remember?"   
  
She took her place next to him and he put his arm around her waist. There was still no outraged response from the other guests. Where were the relatives who lectured her for acting like an undignified groupie at the International Music Awards? How about the Genovians who wrote letters to the newspaper when she wore anything remotely immodest? And her father – he wasn't sending security guards across the room to tell Mikey M to get his hands off her. He wasn't looking at them at all.  
  
"Nice rocks." With his free arm, Mikey M lightly tapped on her diamond bracelet. He had never complimented her appearance before. Mia was pleased to have gotten him to notice.  
  
"They were a present," she said.  
  
"Oh? From whom?"  
  
"Don't say you're jealous." She didn't care that they were now quite literally the center of attention. She could flirt with her boyfriend in front of cabinet ministers if she wanted to. At least the new-and-improved public persona of Princess Amelia could.  
  
He laughed. "You'd better get rid of me and stick with this new guy if you expect presents like that. So come on, tell me, who gave you all the diamonds."  
  
His tone was light, but she could still tell that he meant it. He wanted to know who was giving her expensive presents when she was supposed to be his devoted girlfriend. He really was kind of jealous! She waited until she was sure that everyone was listening to her, then she said, "Napoleon Bonaparte. In 1810. They're a family heirloom."  
  
The dull, boring princess of Genovia wasn't supposed to have a sense of humor. Even her family was surprised. And they laughed. She could now be funny without seeming unacceptably undignified. It was great!  
  
She could not step back and enjoy her social success for long. People moved out of the way to make room for Signor Ferrero and Prince Phillipe, who were headed straight towards Mia and Mikey M. Mikey M immediately let go of her and would have probably retreated to a distant corner of the room to avoid Mia's father if he had seen them coming towards them sooner. Prince Phillipe didn't look very happy to be coming over to see them, but he had to play the role of host and accompany his guest around the room.  
  
"Mikey M, I'm honored to meet you." The Prime Minister shook Mikey M's hand very formally, then kissed both his cheeks like they were close personal friends. Michael was surprised but as capable as ever of handling the situation.  
  
"I am the one who is honored to meet you, Signor Ferrero," he said in unexpectedly good Italian. Unexpectedly good Italian with a touch of a distinctive Genovian accent. Back in high school Mia had struggled with learning languages for Grandmère's Princess Lessons, but Michael had easily picked up everything. He was always brilliant. Now, nearly a decade later, he must be the only American in the world who spoke Italian with a Genovian accent.   
  
Thankfully that one sentence didn't make his unusual accent too obvious. The Prime Minister and the other guests were impressed that he spoke in Italian at all. In Italian, Signor Ferrero said, "You speak our language?"  
  
"It is a beautiful language." Michael was too good at languages for his own good. If he gave any thought to the way he pronounced his vowels, he would be aware that he could give away too much of his background if he wasn't careful. His French with a Genovian accent was easily explained by his having said to have learnt French from a Genovian teacher. No one had to know that that "teacher" was the combined efforts of Mia and Grandmère. There was no Genovian accent in German or Spanish or any of the other languages he had studied. But Genovians speaking Italian were very distinctive. How could he explain coincidentally having a Genovian teacher for both French and Italian?  
  
"You didn't say you spoke Italian!" Eliana Ferrero said. She immediately started asking him in rapid Italian about when and where and why he learned the language, all questions that Mikey M knew he should not answer truthfully. Rescue came from an unexpected source: Prince Phillipe. OK, maybe it wasn't too unexpected. He didn't want to stay in the same part of the room as Michael, so he took the Ferrero family away to be introduced to another guest who wanted to meet them.  
  
As soon as Mia's dad was gone, Mikey M put his arm back around Mia's waist and whispered, "That went well, don't you think?"   
  
She was allowed to whisper to her boyfriend without being rude to the other guests, right? Whether she was being inexcusably impolite or not, she didn't want other people to hear what they were saying, so she whispered back, "Be careful of your Italian. You still sound like a Genovian."  
  
"No one has ever said anything about my Italian when I've been in Italy."  
  
"You weren't speaking Italian in front of a bunch of Genovians. We all know the accent. Most Italians probably don't."  
  
He didn't need to be told twice. Any time a Ferrero approached him speaking in Italian, he found a way to shift the conversation to French or English. Neither Grandmère nor Prince Phillipe directly said a word to Mikey M, and he happily stayed out of their way. Really, there was no way for things to have gone better. All the guests appeared to like Mikey M, and no one had any objections to Mia being with him or even their quick kiss farewell by the door.   
  
She was happy, Michael was happy, and there was still two and a half weeks left for their phony relationship. Everything was perfect! 


	14. Extra Drama, pt 1

Chapter 11 – Extra Drama, pt. 1  
  
Work on Piaget's Children's next album was not going well at Mirabeau. Mikey M knew it was his fault. He wasn't as focused in France as he was back in London. In London all he would do was record music and then come home to an empty apartment. He had his own suite of rooms in Mirabeau, but that didn't give him the solitude and privacy he needed. He still felt surrounded by people, people, and more people. In addition to Piaget's Children's usual entourage of stylists and technicians, there was the household staff of maids, cooks, groundskeepers, and security personnel. Everyone was so damn concerned about making certain he was happy, and all he wanted to do was make some music.  
  
All day was spent in the recording studio. Once he thought things would be quiet for the evening and he would be able to get rid of everyone and have some time to himself, Mia would show up. They had almost made it to the last week of their "relationship" without anyone suspecting that it was all a lie. Princess Amelia's approval rating in Genovia had never been so high. He should have been pleased that his plan had worked so well, but he wasn't. Who knew why. He just wasn't happy about it. And now he couldn't write a decent song.   
  
His band mates and his manager Skip were now with him in the banquet hall that they had been using as a recording studio at the chateau. The guys didn't look very impressed by his newest song he had just played for them. It was still rough and he was playing only the main melody line for them, but – OK, it was terrible. But they were his loyal friends and employees, so they couldn't simply tell him it sucked.   
  
"So what do you call that one? Tortured Love Song #12?" Skip asked. At least they weren't going to offer him empty flattery.  
  
"I think we're on twenty by now," Ansel grumbled. Or maybe they would all be shot for being so ungracious towards him.  
  
"This one's different," Felix said, with more enthusiasm than he probably felt. Good man, Felix, always a friend. "It's … more pathetic. Usually it's an angry tortured love song about how the girl broke his heart or how he's better off without her. This one is really something else. 'I've been changing, baby, so let's meet again.' It's much more desperate than before. The guy in Tortured Love Song #2 or 3 would never sink so low as to beg."   
  
"It's not begging," Mikey M began to protest, but then he shook his head and decided Felix was right. He really was becoming more pathetic.   
  
He had no reason to be writing Tortured Love Songs. As far as everyone else knew, he had a great girlfriend. He knew Mia wasn't really his girlfriend, but he also knew that there had never been any question of love between Mia and him since they were in New York seven years ago. No love meant no heartbreak. No heartbreak meant that he wouldn't feel so compelled to keep on writing all these awful, weepy Boy-Loses-Girls songs.  
  
"Wait until we get back to London," he said. "I work better there."  
  
He hadn't actually mentioned to his friends when they would be leaving France next week, so they were now surprised to hear him refer to leaving so soon. Skip asked, "We're going back already?"   
  
Mikey M did not like to abuse his power over his band, but he was the star, after all, and his whims really could not be ignored. So they were all returning to London, where he could get some privacy and make much better music.  
  
"The lease here runs out in a week. We leave when the lease runs out."  
  
"What about—" Jim began.  
  
"We'll be back home soon," Mikey M said quickly. He wasn't going to give anyone time to ask about Mia. She knew as well as he did that their relationship was going to be over the Sunday after next. That was part of their deal.   
  
Last weekend had been the sixtieth birthday of Mikey M's mentor, Ray Gray. Mikey M and Mia had flown to Los Angeles for the party on Saturday. Many pictures had been taken of them. Mia and Mikey M spent the entire evening side by side, and had said little more to each other than "Do you want something else to eat?" or "Want to dance?"   
  
On Sunday Mia flew to NYC to see her mother and her half-brother. Mikey M was not invited. When he saw her again on Tuesday, she merely said that her visit was "good" and her family was "fine". What a great, open relationship they had together. Did Ms. Thermopolis know about Mikey M's real identity? What did she think of it all? Did Mia see any of their old friends again? Did anyone suspect who he really was?   
  
Now it was Friday. He had no special plans for the coming weekend. He just wanted to write one good song that they could use on their album, not simply Tortured Love Song #50. Maybe he would take Mia out for dinner tomorrow. They would have to do something together in public.   
  
Mikey M couldn't wait until he could be done with Mia and Genovia. She was a burden. He had to always worry about what people would say about her when they went to places together. No reporters were allowed to say anything the least bit negative about her. They had to all find her lovely and charming. The other people at the parties they attended had to think she was the greatest thing to have ever happened to him. Everyone in the world had to adore her as much as he pretended to. And once the month was over, he could leave.  
  
"I have another great song here," he said. "I like to call it 'Tortured Love Song #21.' None of you deserve to hear it. Leave me alone."  
  
His friends understood the serious command behind his jokes. If they didn't leave at once, he would throw them out himself.   
  
Once the door was shut behind them, Mikey M sat back down to work with his notepad, guitar, and piano. He tried redoing parts of his unsuccessful attempts from earlier that week. He looked over the now-titled "Tortured Love Song #20". Nothing was working. If he were back in London he would just go out and take a walk to clear his mind. But here in Mirabeau if he left the banquet hall he would have to deal with people, and they would ask him questions about his progress and want to know how they could help.   
  
He spent all afternoon and all evening in the recording studio. He refused to come out for dinner. He forgot to tell them not to let Mia in when she visited, but when she came by he would tell her not to bother sticking around. He knew she enjoyed their evenings "alone" as much as he did. They were horrible. He didn't want to deal with her now.   
  
But then he noticed it was getting late, and she still hadn't tried to come in. Maybe his friends had anticipated his anti-social mood and had warned her away. Maybe she just didn't have time for him tonight. Maybe she had been kidnapped by terrorists on her way to Mirabeau, and was now being held for ransom in some Eastern European country.  
  
He was actually relieved when he heard a light tapping on the door and Mia came in. He then looked at the time; it was past midnight. She wouldn't be able to stay long, so it didn't make much difference whether he sent her away at once or let her stay until she felt she had stayed long enough.  
  
Mia was wearing in a long, sleek crimson dress and a ruby pendant necklace. This was part of her new look of mature royal elegance, and the style suited her. But those clothes also meant that she had been out to something formal and important without him, and she hadn't even warned him about it when she saw him yesterday. He didn't expect any more invitations to Genovia from Prince Phillipe, but he thought that he had the right to know when Mia was making more public appearances without him.  
  
"I hear you're in a bad mood," Mia said. Mikey M still sat in the middle of all the band equipment, so she sat on the piano bench a few feet away from him. She wasn't looking around for a magazine like she usually did the moment when they were left alone. He was glad. He hadn't spoken to anyone for hours.   
  
"The guys told you that?"  
  
"Yeah. Now I'm supposed to make you feel better. So you'd better be in a better mood when we go out there or else they're going to think there's something wrong with our relationship."  
  
Mikey M's bandmates still loved Mia and were very enthusiastic supporters of their relationship. They were going to be the most upset when Mikey M and Mia officially split up. Hopefully it wouldn't affect their performance in the recording studio.  
  
"We haven't had a single fight in three weeks, and we see each other nearly every day. We're going to need to have some reason to split up by next week." He was already feeling better from just talking to Mia, so he wouldn't be pretending to be happier now. But they still needed to discuss how they were going to end their relationship, and now was as good a time as any to make plans. They never talked in private about anything remotely important.  
  
"It'll be really easy to find good reasons to break up," Mia said. "I mean, come on, my dad hates you. You can't enter Genovia. No offense, but there's no way the Genovian Parliament would ever approve of my marrying a musician without a last name. They still take royal marriages very seriously in Genovia. Dad never found anyone he thought would get approved as his wife. Grandmère almost wasn't approved because she wasn't of actual royal lineage. They're really harsh. And it's not like you'd even want to stay in Genovia and be the Prince Consort. You'd want to go off on a tour and I'd want you to have tea with the wife of a Prime Minister. So us breaking up would be no big surprise. We can just tell everyone that we're accepting reality and we know we can't be together in the long-run."  
  
She must have already given the topic a lot of thought. Those were all the self-evident facts of their situation. They couldn't be together, so they wouldn't stay together. A musician without a last name wasn't good enough to marry the princess of Genovia. A love-struck American college student was also not good enough to marry the princess of Genovia, either. End of story.  
  
After too long of a silence, he said, "We can do better than that, can't we?"   
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"A better reason to break up. If we say we always knew we couldn't be together, what reasons can we give for ever being together to begin with? Can't we give everyone a bit more drama?"  
  
"What kind of drama?"  
  
Mikey M knew his fake relationship with Mia had to be treated like something more than all his other ultimately-failed relationships with women. She was a princess. For three weeks they were the most beloved couple in the world. They had to break up with a real bang that would leave everyone talking, and that would make their break absolutely permanent. He should be chased out of France by the Genovian National Guard with Prince Phillipe and Dowager Princess Clarisse at the head of the troops. He wanted Princess Amelia to be taken away from him with absolutely no hope for reconciliation.   
  
"The Genovian Parliament won't ever approve of me marrying you?" he asked.  
  
"No. But you don't want to, anyway. We're not really dating now, remember?" She was confused, but she was also curious to see what sort of "drama" he had in mind. He was kind of curious to see what he came up with, too.  
  
He would never be allowed to become the Genovian Prince Consort. There was a 0% chance of the Parliament allowing him to marry her. The Genovian people accepted him as Mia's new boyfriend, but they had too much pride to accept him as their prince. Mia's extended family may be amused by him at parties, but they would not be nearly so friendly if they thought he was anything more than a casual boyfriend. Prince Phillipe and Grandmère hated him.   
  
"Let's petition the Genovian Parliament," he said slowly. "Let's tell them we want to get … married."  
  
Mikey M couldn't believe he actually said that. Where do these crazy ideas come from? Mia had been expecting something weird, but she hadn't been expecting anything as extreme as that. They were both silent for about ten seconds, then at the same exact time, they both started laughing.  
  
Tell everyone they wanted to get married? After dating for only three weeks? Without Mikey M having a real identity? Without the permission of her family? It was absolutely ridiculous. Their petition was going to be laughed out of Parliament. They were never going to be allowed to see each other again.   
  
"That's the dumbest idea ever," Mia said when she could finally talk again. "My dad would kill you. He'd kill me for ever listening to you." She was still laughing. He was still laughing. It was still a brilliantly stupid idea.  
  
Mikey M said, "You give me up out of duty, then I write some more tortured love songs, and we've got a great story behind why we can't be together. And compared to me, any guy you ever bring home from now on is going to look great."  
  
"But won't more people want to know who you really are if we present you as a candidate as my Prince Consort?" Mia asked, more seriously. "I'm surprised we got this far without you being caught."  
  
She was not going to make him worry about that now. If people recognized him, he'd have an even better reason to want to marry her, the one girl he had ever loved. And Genovia would have an even better reason to send him away from her.  
  
"Don't worry about me. So what do you think?"  
  
"It's crazy." She shook her head no, but she was smiling. She said, "I don't believe I'm doing this but, yeah, I think it will work. You did say that you'd make me the center of attention."  
  
He did tell her that back at René's party at Miragnac, didn't he? If they had had a lot of press coverage before, it was going to look like nothing compared to the media storm their proposed marriage would cause. Right now everyone who read the gossip pages knew who she was. By the Sunday after next, everyone in the world would know who Princess Amelia was. Plus Mikey M and Piaget's Children. They'd all get a lot of publicity out of this. And it would bring a suitably dramatic end to their unlikely relationship.   
  
He said, "You still deserve it. You're the princess. Now how do you petition the Genovian Parliament? Do you know how?"  
  
"I'm going to run the Parliament some day. Of course I know how to write up a petition. Leave that to me. But do we need a press conference or something? What about a ring? Should I get a ring?"   
  
She actually seemed to like the idea. She could wear rubies and high-heels, but there was still part of her that was the old Mia Thermopolis, who would go along with Lilly's stupid plans. Now she was going along with Mikey M's stupid plans. First he got her to pretend to be his girlfriend for a month. Now she was going to pretend to be his fiancée. He was going to miss her when they were forbidden from ever seeing each other again. Mia could be a fun companion.  
  
"Why don't we surprise everyone next week?" he said. "We won't tell anyone now. Then on Monday you can waltz into Parliament with our petition and see how long it is before we're banished to opposite sides of the planet."  
  
"So that means this weekend is the last time we'll have together." She actually looked a bit disappointed by the end of their charade, but then she smiled again and said, "We should go be seen at jewelry stores so people will know that we're serious about this. I'll cancel my appointments for this weekend and stay here. You don't mind?"  
  
Had she suggested spending the weekend at Mirabeau before now, he would have found some excuse to keep her away. But now he actually thought it would be fun. They would have a grand finale to their romance, and live happily ever after. Far, far away from each other. 


	15. Extra Drama, pt 2

(Note: Sorry for taking so long to get this section up. It's really long. Stuff happens. I hope you like it. School is making my life too busy right now, but hopefully I'll have the next section posted in another week or two. Happy belated Thanksgiving!)  
  
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Chapter 11 (cont.) – Extra Drama, pt 2  
  
Something was very wrong when Mia woke up on Saturday morning. Her alarm didn't go off at 7:00 AM like it should have. She never forgot to set her alarm. Instead of her alarm's expected beeps, there was a ringing… A phone ringing that was not her cell phone? Then she realized that she was not in her bed. The sheets were wrong. The mattress was too big. The entire room was wrong. And what the hell was she wearing?  
  
Michael. Mirabeau. Michael's pajamas. Michael's bedroom. Michael's telephone.  
  
She sat up in the bed and saw her host/boyfriend/fiancé lying on the floor in front of the door. He had only one blanket and a small pillow. He was still asleep, but he couldn't have been very comfortable. His chivalry and deviousness were going to give him back problems.   
  
Last night he had insisted that she stay in his room instead of a separate guest room. As far as everyone else knew, Mia and Mikey M were in a serious, committed relationship, so their not spending the night together would cause more comments and raise more suspicions than if it was known that Mia was staying in his private rooms. She was the princess, so he said that she had to have the bed. And the pajamas.   
  
If she was wearing his one pair of pajamas, what was he wearing? Mia couldn't remember. She was really, really tired when they went to bed last night. He was now mostly covered by the blanket, but she could see his bare shoulders and arms.   
  
The phone continued to ring. Mikey M finally opened his eyes and looked over to Mia on the bed. Did he think she would have snuck off during the night? He was effectively barricading the door by sleeping where he was. He was her knight in shining armor, sleeping at her feet and protecting her from all evils that could get to her. Well, he wasn't exactly wearing his shining armor at present. He moved and the blanket shifted down lower. No doubt about it, the guy wasn't wearing a shirt, and he looked better shirtless now than he ever did in high school. He must really work out a lot. Luckily Mia was a mature woman and would not let his physical appearance affect her in any way. She already knew that Mikey M was gorgeous, and seeing him with less clothing only confirmed it.   
  
She pointed to the phone and said, "Are you going to get that or should I?"  
  
"I'll get it, wait a second."   
  
He pushed the blanket aside, stood up, and picked up the phone on the side table. He did not seem to notice that he was missing a few layers of clothes. Mia was wearing the one pair of pajamas he had taken with him to France, but that did not seem like a good excuse to wear only a pair of boxer shorts while sharing the bedroom with a very important princess. It was a very, very good thing that Mia was too proper to look at him standing half-naked in front of her. OK, she was too proper to stare for too long. He really, really must work out. Do musicians have personal trainers?   
  
"Hey, it's Mikey M. … Already? Wait." He put the receiver away from his mouth and said, "Mia, your dad's here. He wants to see you. You don't have to see him if you don't want to."  
  
Damn. Mia should have known this would happen. She had called last night and left a message at the palace saying that she would be staying in Mirabeau all weekend and would have to excuse herself from all her commitments for the next two days. She had had to break plans in order to go to events with Mikey M before in the past few weeks, but she had always given everyone advance warning. She knew that Ted and Francine were not going to be happy about having to rearrange her schedule, and she knew her father and the rest of her family would find out that she was with Mikey M, but she had expected to get a lecture when she returned to Genovia. She didn't expect her dad to come all the way to Mirabeau to take her home.   
  
She was twenty-five-years-old. She did everything she was supposed to do during the week. She needed some time for her own affairs, too. She was staying with Mikey M at Mirabeau that weekend, no matter what.  
  
"Tell him I'll see him on Monday," Mia said. "But I don't want to get the rest of the guys in trouble with Genovia. I'd better talk to my dad myself."   
  
"You'll talk to him on Monday," Mikey M said decisively. She couldn't tell whether he was being kind to her by helping her avoid the confrontation with her father, or whether he was bossing her around and trying to manage her life. But then he smiled very briefly before resuming his conversation on the phone, and Mia knew that it was the first reason. He was being her friend.  
  
She got out of bed and began to move towards the bathroom, but Mikey M put down the receiver again and said, "Mia, get dressed quickly. We're going to run away. OK?"  
  
Get dressed? Mia saw her red dress from last night hanging on the back of a chair and all her jewelry carefully laid out on the top of the bureau. She couldn't spend the entire weekend in the dress or in Mikey M's pajamas. Francine would send her whatever she needed from the palace, but that didn't help her now. Mikey M also saw the problem and once again smiled very briefly at the situation. He smiled slightly longer at the sight of her trying to walk around in his over-sized pajamas. He said a few more words to the person on the phone and put the receiver down, and then he opened his closet.   
  
"We'll get you something decent when we're out of here," he said. He threw out a white button-down shirt, a pair of gray trousers, and a few belts. "I doubt any of the belts will fit you, but see what you can do. And hurry."  
  
Mia took the clothes and went into the bathroom. See what she could do, right. She rolled up the shirt cuffs and the pant and did her best to get the pants to stay up with the smallest of the belts, but she still felt ridiculous in Mikey M's clothes. The next time she decided to spend a scandalous weekend with her boyfriend, she would remember to bring her own clothes. They had better not be seen by any photographers when they were "running away".  
  
Mikey M was fully dressed and on the telephone again when she came out of the bathroom. She could barely keep her pants up, and he looked great without having to even brush his hair. He was wearing a pair of black pin-stripe pants and a black short-sleeve shirt. Her next boyfriend should definitely not be so much better-looking than she was.   
  
"Are you sure you don't have anything smaller?" she asked. "Maybe Jen would have something that would fit me."  
  
"No time. Can you look out the balcony and see whether the ladder is out there?"  
  
They were going to sneak out of the chateau by the balcony? She should have known that Michael would not leave by the front door when he was trying to avoid her father. She opened the doors to the balcony, then discovered the next problem: Shoes. She had been wearing a pair of red high-heels last night. She looked silly enough now. She did not need red dress shoes to complete the look.   
  
Mikey M hung up the phone and put on his own shoes. Then he, too, realized her difficulty. "Hey, just go barefoot. We'll get you shoes once we're out of here. Is the ladder there?"  
  
Hopefully the Mirabeau household staff kept the balconies reasonably clean. Mia cautiously stepped out and saw the top of a ladder leaning against the side of the railing. They were only on the second floor of the chateau, but the ceilings were very high on the first floor so it was more like having to descend from the third or fourth floor. The ladder did not look very sturdy.  
  
"Are you sure about this?" Mia asked.  
  
Mikey M came out onto the balcony, too, and closed the doors to the bedroom behind him. He leaned over the edge and waved to someone. "There's a gardener holding the bottom of the ladder. Don't worry. The window washers have to use these ladders all the time."  
  
"We're not window washers. They know what they're doing. We don't. I'm not even wearing any shoes. I'll just talk to my dad and we can leave by the front door like normal people."  
  
"Where's the fun in that?" His back was turned to her, but she guessed he was smiling again. He wasn't the one wearing clothes that were multiple sizes too big. He had shoes. She was going to trip over her pant leg and fall to her death, barefoot.  
  
"You go first. If you survive, maybe I'll follow," she said. She hoped she sounded like she was joking.   
  
He turned around and said, "Certainly, your Highness." He gave the person at the foot of the ladder another wave and swung a leg over the side of the balcony. The idiot really was going to go down the ladder. And he was grinning! He thought this was fun!  
  
"Be careful," she added, not as if she thought he would listen. He was already going down the ladder. She could hear the sound of his feet on the metal rungs of the ladder. If they didn't want to get caught, they had better hope that Prince Phillipe wasn't anywhere close to that wing of the chateau. She waited until she could no longer hear Mikey M on the ladder. No screams of pain or anguish. He must be survived. So that meant it was her turn. Great.  
  
She cautiously leaned over the side of the balcony to see Mikey M and a hefty man holding the ladder and looking up to her. She waved half-heartedly and they waved back. She was really, really high up. If Mikey M thought this was fun, he was crazy. She was crazy for agreeing. She was crazy for now sitting on top of the balcony railing and holding onto the top of the ladder. The ladder rungs did not look very clean. Maybe she should find a pair of socks in Mikey M's closet. No, it was too late to go back. They had to hurry before Mia's dad sent someone up to Mikey M's room to find her.   
  
If she did not want to face her father, she was going to have to get down the ladder. That settled it. She'd risk getting tetanus and go down the ladder.   
  
She slowly turned around and still held onto the balcony railing as she stepped onto the cold, metal ladder. The ladder didn't seem to shake. Two strong men were stabilizing it. If she got at least half way down before she fell, they'd probably be able to catch her. Even if they didn't, she probably would be able to fall into the bushes and only break her arms and legs. She'd probably be able to avoid a fatal head or spinal injury.  
  
With those very encouraging thoughts, Mia began to slowly climb down the ladder. She kept her eyes focused on where she needed to put her hands and did her best not to look down or around. She just needed to get down, down, down…   
  
She was surprised when her feet reached the ground. She didn't fall. She was alive! Once the first feelings of astonishment and relief were passed, she felt unexpectedly energized and excited. She really did it. She snuck out of a second story window before her dad could find her. Cool! What would everyone at the Genovian palace say when they heard about that?   
  
"Now what?" she asked in a low voice.  
  
Mikey M didn't look as enthusiastic as she was to continue their little adventure. He actually looked concerned. "You're sure you're OK? You looked a bit shaky up there."   
  
"I'm fine now. So are we going to hide somewhere until Dad goes away? Or are we going to meet up with François and get me some shoes?"   
  
Mikey M thanked the gardener and took Mia's hand. "We're making our romantic escape. People could be watching out the windows," he said in a low voice. When were they ever not being observed? She didn't mind, though. She trusted Mikey M. He'd handle all the details, and it would all work out. Everything always worked out for him.  
  
She followed him across the lawn to the stables, which had been converted into a garage by the current owners of the chateau. So her second idea was right. They were meeting François and leaving Mirabeau together. The chauffeurs and mechanics in the garage were expecting them. One man gave Mikey M a set of car keys and pointed out a black BMW to them.  
  
"Whose car is that?" Mia asked.  
  
"Skip's," Mikey M said. "We're borrowing it. He won't mind."  
  
He opened the front passenger's door for Mia and she got in. She never got to sit up front. She always had a bodyguard or a chauffeur. Apparently Mikey M had decided to drive himself. He never appeared to worry much about his own security when he was alone, so he probably would even sometimes drive for himself.  
  
"When did you learn how to drive?" she asked.  
  
He started the car and adjusted the rear-view mirror. "When I was living in LA."  
  
"You lived in LA?"   
  
"Six years ago. When I was with Ray Gray. Remember the party?"  
  
That was last weekend. There were even more cool music people at Ray Gray's birthday party than there had been at the International Music Awards. Mia had known that Mikey M had played with Ray Gray's band when he was starting out, but he hadn't told her anything about it when they were in LA together. He didn't say much at all to her.   
  
"You didn't say you lived there," she said.  
  
"I should have mentioned it. I learned to drive then." He was back in his distant, unresponsive mode. She shouldn't be surprised. He never answered personal questions. Still, she had been hoping they could just be friends. They had spent the night together, well, sort of. He drove the car out of the garage and onto the driveway. But then he turned towards the main road instead of the house.   
  
"Aren't you going to pick up François?" Mia asked.  
  
He shook his head no. "I talked to him when you were getting dressed. We're meeting him in two hours."  
  
"What?"  
  
"We're running away, remember?"  
  
"But it's not safe."  
  
"It's probably safer than going down that ladder without shoes."  
  
They reached the gate at the end of the driveway. There were about a half dozen vans outside for the reporters and paparazzi. They must have seen Prince Phillipe come in. They were going to recognize Mikey M and her in the car. They weren't going to get anywhere on their own. They should turn around and get François or someone else to drive them.  
  
Mikey M must have guessed her thoughts. "Don't worry. The windows are tinted and they know this is Skip's car."  
  
The guard at the gate let them go through without question. The photographers looked up when they passed, but they just let them leave. Was this all it took to get away? Borrow someone else's car? Mikey M did not seem surprised by the reporters' reactions. He must have done this before.   
  
"Don't worry, Mia. The terrorists and kidnappers won't ever know you're out of Mirabeau. François and the others are going to cover up for us."  
  
Mia hadn't been out in public without a bodyguard in years. There was no one looking after her. No one knew where she was going. She was used to the feeling of security from having large, armed men watching over her. Now she was just in a car with a guy who was sometimes her friend and sometimes a complete stranger.  
  
Oddly enough, she still didn't feel as nervous about the situation as she knew she should. She was still safe. She was with Michael. He would never, ever let anything bad happen to her, although he wouldn't talk to her about living in California. She had fun when she was with him, even when he was getting her to do stupid things like, say, announce their engagements to the Genovian Parliament.  
  
"So what about my shoes?"  
  
"I thought you'd never ask. We're five minutes from a town. François said we're allowed to go there. There hasn't been a princess abducted there in months."  
  
So that was why Mikey M was on the phone so much before they left. He was arranging for ladders to be specially placed and cars to be made available, as well as getting specific instructions about places it would be safe to take Mia without any security escort. She knew she could trust him not to do anything stupid.  
  
"They'd better have clothes there, too. I'm not wearing your clothes all weekend. We should also get breakfast. We haven't eaten yet."  
  
"Yes, your Highness."  
  
From spending her summers at Miragnac when growing up, Mia had been to all the towns in the area. She did recognize the clean, little French town they drove to. There was only one row of modest shops, but that's all they needed. No sign at all of paparazzi, and no evidence that they had been followed. Perfect.   
  
Mikey M parked in front of the shoe store. Mia was not going to be picky. She just wanted something that would cover her feet. She opened the car door and then looked at the ground. Not too bad. She had already walked across the lawn at Mirabeau to the garage, so her feet were already dirty.   
  
"Wait a second, Mia," Mikey M said, but it was too late. She was already running into the shoe store. She picked up the first shoe she saw and handed it to the very surprised-looking saleswoman. She asked for her size and sat down. Mikey M came in after her. He said hello to the other salesperson in the shop and sat down next to Mia on the bench.  
  
"Already found something?"   
  
"It's great. They have soles and everything."  
  
The saleswoman returned with the sandals in Mia's size. They looked odd with the over-sized clothes she was still wearing, but they fit so, as far as Mia was concerned, they were perfect. She was going to buy new clothes next. But there was yet another problem: Money. François always carried her wallet.  
  
"You like them?" Mikey M pointed to the shoes she had not taken off. She nodded. She was so pleased to have actual shoes that she never wanted to take them off again.   
  
"Fine, we'll take them," he said to the saleswoman in French and took out his wallet.  
  
On their way out of the shop, Mia said, "Thanks, Michael. I owe you."  
  
"You bet you do. I'm acting as your chauffeur and bodyguard today, and I'm buying you things. I expect a knighthood for this. Now let's get you real clothes before you trip and tear my pants."  
  
Mia hadn't gone into a normal clothes shop and bought something off the rack in years. Grandmère would throw a fit if she saw what Mia was up to. No big-name designer labels were in sight. Mia did not want to spend too much of the morning shopping, so she quickly picked out a simple sundresses and changed into one while Mikey M paid.   
  
They left the store and were back on the town's main street. Still no one recognized them. And there were no terrorists at all. Mia felt sort of disappointed by the lack of drama in their morning after they left Mirabeau.  
  
"We've gotten you shoes and clothes, so what's left? Breakfast?" Mikey M began to walk to a cute, little café on the main street. They could just spend an hour drinking coffee together and then go meet François. Or they could do something more fun.  
  
Mia grabbed his arm and said, "Let's get something from a bakery instead. I know of the perfect place to go. It'd be much cooler than just eating at a café." Mikey M looked skeptical, so she added, "There won't be any kidnappers there. Really."  
  
"I do as you command, your Highness."  
  
Mikey M was the one with money, so he handled buying breakfast for the two of them. He was even less eager about Mia's breakfast plans when she asked for the car keys.  
  
"When did you learn to drive?" he asked.  
  
"A few summers ago. René taught me." She did not mention that that was when René was going through his racecar phase. Most of her driving lessons took place on the race track. René said she had potential, but she never took the turns fast enough.  
  
Mikey M gave her the keys, then he very vocally regretted it as soon as she started driving. It did feel like they were going faster with her behind the wheel, but no matter how much Mikey M protested, Mia really did not think she was going to kill them both in a bloody, painful car accident. They very quickly got to their destination.  
  
"I'm driving from now on." He snatched away the car keys before Mia could think of an excuse. She thought that driving was kind of fun.   
  
"I told you I'd get us here in one piece."  
  
"We're lucky everyone else was able to get out of your way fast enough. If you wanted to get rid of your boring public image, you should have just driven around Genovia for a couple of days. People would never look at you the same again."  
  
Who would have guessed that Mikey M could be as paranoid as her father? But they had arrived at her favorite place in the world, so she was happy. It was the olive tree grove on top of a hill overlooking the rest of Genovia. They could see the Genovian palace and all the gardens and fountains around it. The main part of the city was not far beyond the palace gates, then there were the docks and the deep blue of the Mediterranean Sea. The entire hill, olive trees and all, was owned by the Renaldo family, but Mia was the only one who ever went out there.   
  
Now that he had gotten over the car trip and he had regained possession of the keys, Mikey M looked around at where Mia had taken them. He looked at the trees and then looked long out over Genovia and the sea. Mia knew he would be able to appreciate the beauty of the scene.   
  
"Where are we?" he asked.  
  
"Genovia. The car is in France, so if we hear anyone coming you can run back there and no one will know you were in the country."  
  
"All that's Genovia?" He pointed to the palace and the city. He had only been in the country twice, as far as Mia knew, so he wouldn't know the major landmarks.  
  
"Yes. Not all the water, though. We have to make deals with France over fishing rights in the Mediterranean."  
  
"So that's your palace?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Nice place. Let's eat something."  
  
They sat down in the grass and he unpacked what they had gotten at the town's bakery. Mia was not very hungry. She just wanted to sit on her hill with her pseudo-boyfriend and enjoy the pretty day. Neither said much. He asked a few questions about the larger buildings in Genovia and she told him what they were.   
  
They were nearly done eating, and their two hours was close to being over. Mikey M finally asked, "OK, Mia, why are we all the way here in Genovia instead of in some nice café with hot coffee?"  
  
"I wanted to be here instead," Mia said simply. He did not look satisfied with that reason. He was probably still annoyed at how fast she drove. She said, "This is all the time we're going to really be alone this weekend, right? So that means people will think this is when you asked me to marry you. It wouldn't make for a very good story if everyone saw us in that town buying me clothes and drinking coffee."  
  
There was no way he could find anything wrong with her reasoning. He thought about it, then nodded. "I should have thought of that," he said. "Now no one will know where we are, so they'll think we're somewhere romantic and pretty."  
  
"Well, we are, aren't we?"   
  
Mia looked around the olive tree grove and tried to imagine somewhere prettier and more romantic. Maybe if the sun were setting, and if the summer weather weren't so hot, and there were fewer bugs, it would be a bit more romantic. But as far as nice scenery, peaceful atmospheres, and pretty flowers were concerned, this was the best place on the planet for a good marriage proposal. Here she was, sitting next to the most gorgeous man she had ever met in a very romantic and pretty place, and everyone in the world would think that they were really engaged on Monday.   
  
"Do I ever get a real marriage proposal?" she asked. "Or do I have to make something up when people ask?"  
  
Mikey M turned around and looked a bit surprised. He smiled and she knew she was going to get what she wanted. "We have to make certain our stories match, right? Sure, I'll propose properly." He looked back out over Genovia and the sea, and said, "Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, would you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Mia M? People will be able to remember your name more easily if you dropped some of those names."  
  
That was not the romantic proposal she had been expecting. In fact, it was completely unsatisfactory. He wasn't even looking at her when he said it. "Sorry, that's not good enough. Besides, I'm keeping all my names. You'd have to take on mine. Prince Consort Michael Moscovitz Renaldo. Or Prince Consort Mikey M Renaldo."  
  
"OK, then. Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, would you do me the honor of letting me become Prince Consort Mikey M Renaldo? Or would it be Prince Consort Mikey Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis M Renaldo?"  
  
She laughed. He wasn't going to take this seriously, was he? She was not going to be receiving any other marriage proposals for a very long time, so she wanted a good one from him. "For someone who makes his living writing love songs, you're not very good at this. Say something nice and romantic about me and then ask me to marry you. Then I'll say yes."  
  
"It doesn't sound very fair. I'm the one who has to do all the work."  
  
"I'm writing the petition to the Genovian Parliament, so we'll be equal in the end."  
  
"OK, your Highness, you got me there. Let me think for a minute."   
  
He cleaned up all the trash from their breakfast and Mia stayed seated and thought more about how great the day was. It was a beautiful morning. For the first time in ten years, she was truly free from the observation of her family's security. She was free. And she was having fun.   
  
How many people in the world would kill to be in her place, sitting on top of her very own hill, overlooking her very own country, awaiting a very romantic proposal from one of the most desirable men on Earth? The people in her country liked her now. People who didn't live in her country liked her. The guys in Piaget's Children liked her. Mikey M was going to ask her to marry him, as soon as he found a way to make certain the trash wouldn't blow away when he was telling her nice, romantic things about herself. She was going to be the fiancée of the most handsome, talented, brilliant, charming, funny, clever…  
  
Oh no. Mia was in love with Michael, wasn't she? And not only with his current Mikey M persona. She really and truly loved all of him – the geeky Michael Moscovitz she used to date, the troubled college drop-out who made himself into a rock star, and the confident, popular musician who could get away with anything. He was the most amazing person she had ever met. She loved him. This was very, very bad.   
  
He wouldn't talk to her about himself, even though she knew more about his personal life than anyone else. He would not make any attempt to be reconciled with her father. He said some really mean things about Genovia that he never publicly took back. He had gone out with too many other women. He was too preoccupied with his music. He was completely unsuited for her.   
  
But he was also such a nice guy. When he heard how her tabloid problems could be traced to him, he wanted to help make things better. And he did make things a lot better. He looked after her. He made her feel like she was someone truly special to him, and not just because she was the heir to the throne of Genovia but because she was someone he knew and respected. He let her wear his pajamas, and he bought her shoes. He was a great person. Plus he was gorgeous.  
  
She was going to ruin all their plans because she was an idiot and had fallen for her ex-boyfriend again. This was not supposed to have happened. How could she possibly present the marriage petition to Parliament if she really was in love with Michael? She was supposed to want the petition to be rejected. Worst of all, what if Michael found out that she loved him? This was very, very, very, very, very bad.   
  
"Are you OK?" he asked.   
  
No, she was not OK. She was in love with the wrong man. Again. At least he had loved her when she was in high school. Now she was in love with him, and he couldn't wait until they were publicly broken up again. She was not OK at all.  
  
"Umm, I'm fine, really. But we should get back, you know, before anyone misses us or something."  
  
"But I haven't proposed yet, remember?" He smiled, and then Mia had to smile, too, because seeing him smile made her happy.   
  
No, no, no. She was not going to mess up everything now. She looked away from him and said, "Make it fast."  
  
"Stand up." He was standing up, too. Did that mean he was going to kiss her? She wouldn't mind that. A kiss and then ask her to marry him. Short, simple, and to the point. But no, when she stood up, he went down on a knee and said, "You said you wanted me to do this properly, right?"  
  
She knew she was supposed to laugh, but he looked so cute on his knee, looking up at her and ready to make up something about how great she was just to make her happy. She looked away again and said, "You don't really have to do this, you know. I was just kidding before."   
  
"You said I wasn't good at being romantic. I have to prove you wrong. Now stop looking at the trees and look at me. It's kind of weird trying to propose to someone who won't look at you."  
  
"Umm, I'm not looking at the trees. I'm—I'm looking at the car coming up the hill, right towards us. Oh my god. I think our two hours are up." She pointed to the black Porsche that was still a distance away from them, but was obviously on the road to the olive grove. François usually drove a black Porsche when he was driving her around Genovia, so it was probably him. Mikey M and she must have been under more surveillance than they had thought.  
  
"Damn." Mikey M stood up and actually did look disappointed. Mia was very relieved the awkward situation had been avoided.  
  
"You'd better get into France before François gets up here. He might not be alone," Mia said. She picked up the bag of their trash from breakfast and they walked together to their borrowed car.  
  
"By the way, Mia, you'll marry me, right?" There was his ultra-romantic proposal. He was probably afraid of her father coming out of the car and dragging Mia away before the words were actually said.  
  
"That's not very romantic at all. And yes, of course I'll marry you, but only if the Genovian Parliament approves."   
  
She'd want to be with him even without the Parliament's approval, married or not, but she was not going to mention that. This was all just part of their plan. If anyone asked when Mikey M asked her to marry him, they'd be able to say that it was on a hill overlooking Genovia on the boundary to France on the one morning they had been able to sneak out together without Mia's bodyguard.  
  
"Don't worry, Princess. There's no time now, but you'll get your romantic proposal. It's going to go on our album. It's that good. OK?"   
  
The car was coming closer to them. For the sake of looking like a good boyfriend who had just had his marriage proposal accepted, he put his arm around her waist and smiled. He wanted to put his proposal to her on Piaget's Children's album, and he had his arm around her. He had his arm around her! Who cares what he put on his album.   
  
"Tortured Love Song #21?" Mia suggested.  
  
He shook his head no. "That's for when our petition gets turned down."  
  
He sure knew how to kill a girl's good mood. They were breaking up in a few more days. Mia had better fall out of love fast, or else she was going to be writing a few tortured love songs of her own next weekend. But she made herself smile again when the car pulled up. She had just become engaged to the greatest guy in the world, so she should be delighted. Then Skip and François came out of the car, Michael kissed her, and she felt genuinely happy again. 


	16. Engagement', pt 1

Chapter 12 – The 'Engagement', pt. 1  
  
Mikey M couldn't wait until Mia would go back to Genovia. Sleeping on the floor hurt. He woke up early on Sunday and went straight to the recording studio without waking up Mia or anyone else. The only people awake were Mirabeau's household staff. He refused all offers of breakfast and shut himself up in the studio with all his bandmates' instruments.   
  
He hadn't touched a piano or guitar all day yesterday. When was the last time he went for an entire day without making music? He took along a guitar on even his shortest trips away from home. He needed his music. It was his life. Mia had Genovia. He had Piaget's Children. They wouldn't stand a chance as a real couple, even if they wanted to. They both had too strong of commitments to others. But he still had a proposal to sing.  
  
Mia was easy to write songs for. He thought of the tune and most of the lyrics back on the hill the day before. She looked so happy to be there, looking at her country and talking to him about it. Mikey M had not realized how much Mia had come to love Genovia, but he just had to look at her looking at it for him to know. She would give up anyone the Genovian Parliament and her father disapproved of, because in the end she needed Genovia and, on some level, Genovia needed her. She didn't need a husband. Well, maybe there was the matter of getting an heir to the throne, but there was no hurry for that.   
  
So if she did choose to get married, whoever she ended up with would be a perfect guy. Mikey M imagined what it would be like to be that chosen, perfect guy, and there was his song. He didn't need to write it down then. He remembered it all now. The details had only become more clear during the rest of the day.   
  
"I'm the perfect guy,/with a perfect life,/and I know a princess,/who'd be my perfect wife." Absolutely ridiculous lines. Mia was going to laugh when she heard this. He could hardly keep a straight face when writing it down.   
  
He scribbled out the lines describing the imaginary fiancé. Never says the wrong thing, adored by her father and grandmother, ready to drop everything for her, does what he's told, lives only for her. In short, he'd be nothing like Mikey M. This was a marriage proposal, so that meant he had to talk about his perfect princess wife. Pretty, funny, smart, kind, and the heir to the throne.   
  
"She's perfect./I'm perfect./Together we're even better."   
  
The lyrics were silly and sweet, and during the first verse the song sounded like a typical pop love song, not at all the sort of thing that Piaget's Children usually recorded. But that style lasted only until half-way through the second verse. The music got more complex and darker, while still keeping the same melodic theme, as the song progressed. He ran out of verses before he was done playing with the music, so he translated the song into French and continued from the beginning. And then Italian. By the German version, the cheesy love ballad had transformed into something nearly unrecognizable from the original tune in the first verse. It was dark, angry punk, protesting that they would be better than perfect together.  
  
"Woah, what was that?" Felix asked when the rest of the band members came in. Mikey M was still finishing writing out the end.  
  
"It's a love song in German."  
  
"It's bloody brilliant, that's what it is," Jim said. "Why German?"  
  
Mikey M wrote down notes for the last few chords, and notes for the ending that he had just thought of, and flipped to the first page of the song. "Just listen."  
  
The door opened again and this time Mia came in. She was fully dressed, and for a moment he thought she was going to go back to the palace in Genovia already. But she sat down in the back, behind all the recording equipment far away from where the band was set up. She was there to watch.   
  
"This song is written for Mia," he announced, and she smiled. She knew what to expect now: his great musical proposal.  
  
He began to sing his sappy love song, but instead of gradually changing the style and tone of the music, he stayed in the happy, cheerful, bubblegum pop style of the opening. Everyone was laughing by the time he got to the end. They knew as well as he did that he did not write songs like that.  
  
He put down his guitar and said, "So what do you think? It's just what was missing from the album, don't you agree?"  
  
"There's a reason why it's missing," Angus said gruffly, but then he started laughing again.  
  
Mia was also doing her best to keep a straight face. "That's … great, Michael. But the guy isn't you and the girl isn't me, so I don't know whether it counts."  
  
"Counts for what?" Felix asked, but Mikey M was not going to explain to everyone now that it was a genuine marriage proposal. They'd all hear about their engagement soon enough.  
  
He said to Mia, "Of course it's about us. We're both perfect and you're a princess. It's us to the T. I call it 'Better than Perfect.' I worked all morning on it." He saw the skeptical looks from his bandmates as well as from Mia, so he picked up his guitar again and said, "I guess I should let you hear the other version. It's longer."  
  
"Play what you were playing when we came in," Jim said. "It was awesome, Mia, you'll love it. It's real crazy."   
  
Mikey M smiled. "Listen."  
  
He started from the beginning, but this time played it the right way, changing the style and then shifting languages. The effect would be even more intense when he added in the other instrumental parts, but already it was enough to make everyone in the studio stand in stunned silence by the time he got to the last few near-screamed lines, switching from German back into English. "We'll be better than perfect, Mia. So marry me."  
  
He hit the last chord on his guitar hard, and let the instrument ring in the quiet room. He hadn't realized just how harsh the ending would sound. He'd better make certain it didn't get put out before the 'engagement' was well over. But it was just what he wanted, all the frustration of his relationship with Mia put in a song. There's no reassuring ending because there was not going to be a happy ending for them. They were going to be told they can't be together in front of the entire world, and there was nothing they could do about it. And that would be the end, loud and furious.  
  
He first looked over to Mia's corner of the room. She looked a bit overwhelmed. He knew the music was cool, but he didn't expect such a strong reaction to it. She actually looked a bit ill.  
  
"Um… I guess… I think I liked the first version better," she said. 'I mean, that one is … and all… but I…"  
  
"I'll take your name out." He put his guitar down and picked up his pen. Removing her name would change the rhythm of the end. Maybe say 'Darling' instead of 'Mia'. That had the same number of syllables and the same stress. But would he be calling her 'Darling' by that point in the song? Maybe he could put a different female name there. He'd have to give it more thought. He looked up again and saw that Mia didn't look all that reassured from his promise.  
  
"You definitely don't need to mention Mia's name," Ansel said. "That would give people the wrong idea about you two. The song's too dark to be about you."  
  
Mikey M just nodded. He never talked to his friends about Mia, so they didn't expect any further comment from him about the proper style of music to accurately describe their relationship. The guys were not going to be happy when the Genovian Parliament sent him packing. Luckily they'd all be distracted by the practical matters of getting all their things back to London so they could all finish recording their album.  
  
"Don't change anything else," Jim said. "The song's really, really cool. No hard feelings about the ending, right Mia? It's just a song, after all. Mikey, you must know what you want the rest of us to do."   
  
The guys were already going to their instruments. Mikey M picked up his guitar again, too. He'd deal with Mia later and see what he could do to make her OK about the song, but he agreed with Jim. He didn't want to change anything. It was the most personal and autobiographical song he had allowed himself to write. And he felt like screaming in German in the end of it all. He wasn't surprised when Mia left the studio soon afterwards.   
  
Since he had not eaten breakfast, he stopped the rehearsal for an early lunch. Mia was in the dining room already, writing something while sitting at the table. Mikey M sat next to her and, after giving her a kiss on the cheek, he noticed she was working on a rough draft of their marriage petition.  
  
"How may other bills have you submitted to Parliament?" he asked in a low voice. The others were more concerned about ordering their favorite dishes for luncheon than with what Mikey M and Mia were talking about.  
  
Mia said quietly, "None since college. I have to do all the official hostess things for Dad now that Grandmère's too old for everything. And then I have to worry about getting the Genovians to like me. That used to be a hard job before you came along."  
  
He knew that Mia took her responsibilities at the palace very seriously, but he still couldn't imagine that she would leave all the government business to her father. Every time she visited Genovia in high school she would end up in Parliament listening to debates on her newest ideas for how to improve the country. First it was the parking meters. Then the traffic lights. Then the strict anti-littering laws. Her proposed smoking bans never got very far. As far as Mikey M could tell from what he knew of the country, the people in Genovia still smoked and not every stray cat had a home, so Mia should be still making a nuisance of herself at Parliament with her impractical, idealistic bills.  
  
"Don't you have more things you want to change about Genovia?"  
  
"Dad says that if I try to take an active role in politics now, I'll neglect my hostess duties at home. Important people are always coming to dinner and expecting me to give them tours of the country and show them our national treasures and all that. It's a lot of work."  
  
"Just because Prince Phillipe didn't get married does not mean that you should be stuck staying at home when you should be learning how to rule the country."  
  
She looked surprised by how much he cared. He was surprised by how much he cared. He did not like the idea of Mia sitting in the palace's parlor drinking tea when she wanted to be out there saving the environment.   
  
"Dad's taught me some things. But right now I know he'll do what's right and I'll do what I have to do at home." She didn't sound very convinced of that. If their 'relationship' was not about to end, Mikey M would have wanted to help her raise her profile within Genovia. Maybe if she did more outside charity work, she'd be able to indirectly influence what the Parliament was doing.   
  
She looked back down at the legal pad where she was working on their petition. "Is your name officially Mikey M? On your passport and driver's license and everything?"  
  
"I got my name legally changed. I'm officially from Boca Raton, if you need to know that. That's where the paperwork was filled out. Same birth date."  
  
"You were staying with your grandparents? Are they still down there?"  
  
His grandfather was dead and his grandmother was in a nursing home, but he was not going to discuss his family with Mia, especially not when the others were still in the room arguing over what type of fish they had had the day before at dinner.  
  
Mia also realized that she had asked something too personal. She wrote down a note on her pad and said, "OK, so reasons why we want to get married. They always make you put down reasons for why a bill should be approved. First of all, we're in love."   
  
"We need more reasons than that?"  
  
She was still in her business-like princess mode. She was determined to get the petition right, especially since she was the only one she would be able to write for a very long time. "We want to provide support for each other."  
  
"Definitely. How about kids? I want my sons and daughters to take over your country and wear lots of jewelry given to the family by Napoleon." If she was going to take this seriously, he would not.  
  
"Good one. Dad may have a heart attack when he hears us talking about kids, but he's already going to be mad."   
  
She wrote something about their wanting their children to be the unambiguous, legitimate heirs to the throne of Genovia. Of course if she never got married and had children with him or with any other guy, the kids would still be the heirs. That's how she became Genovia's princess. But Mia needed to be married eventually. She needed someone to play host at the palace when she was where she belonged, in Parliament taking an active role in the political affairs of her country.   
  
"I'll write a great new national anthem if they let me marry you."  
  
"Sorry, that's not making the list. So what else? Love, support, kids."  
  
"It'd be a great gesture to the future. I'm just an American musician without a last name, like you said before. By marrying me, you'd show that the Genovian royal family is with the times."   
  
She shook her head. "I'm not going to marry you in the end, so we can't make it look like I'm not because we're too old-fashioned."  
  
"But that's the reason, isn't it?"  
  
"You're banned from Genovia, remember?" She went back to writing her petition, so she missed the look of frustration that was briefly on Mikey M's face. Yes, he was still banned from Genovia, and her father was not going to remove the ban even though he had been on his best behavior the last month. It was ridiculous. Now he would not be able to even go to Parliament with Mia to present their petition.  
  
The food for lunch was brought out, so Mia put away her work and they sat with the others. The guys were still excited by Mikey M's new song. Last week he could only write repetitive tortured love songs, but now, finally, he had written something good. It was still a tortured love song, but it was a genuine one. The torture was real, as was the marriage proposal at the end.   
  
"You'd better change the end of the song before we record it, Mikey M. The papers are saying you two are buying an engagement ring now," Jim said. He handed Mikey M the newspaper he had been reading.   
  
The gossip columns had been predicting Mikey M and Mia's marriage for weeks, so this was not the first time that they had been 'spotted' at a jewelry store together. This was the first time that the report was true, though.  
  
Jen's assistant Kristy came in the room and handed Mikey M a small package. "This was delivered for you, Mikey M."  
  
Perfect timing. He said, "I had almost forgotten about this. Thanks, Kristy." He did not take the wrapping off the package. He simply handed it to Mia and poured himself another cup of coffee.  
  
"That's it?" Mia asked. "If this is what I think it is, you can't just hand it to me. You're supposed to say something romantic." She was speaking loudly so the entire room could hear. She had dropped the official, dutiful princess act. Now she was going to tease him until he proclaimed to the entire room that she was the love of his life. Here was a chance for him to make up for his unromantic proposal. And here was a chance for Mia and him to let his entire entourage know about the most recent development in their whirlwind romance. Everyone in the world would know by tomorrow anyway.   
  
He took the package out of her hands and carefully unwrapped it. He took the ring out of the little jewelry box and turned to his fiancée. By now all the people in the room, including the chateau staff bringing out the food from the kitchen, were watching them and grinning.   
  
The ring was not a typical diamond engagement ring. Mia was unwilling to support the evil diamond industry, and she had spent ten minutes lecturing everyone in the very up-scale, exclusive jewelry store about the inhumane conditions in diamond mining camps in Africa. That was the Mia Thermopolis Mikey M used to know. Besides, she already had much more beautiful diamonds in her jewelry vault. She claimed not to be interested in jewelry, but Mia had gone through the entire shop critiquing the quality and style of all the rings they had until she had finally decided on a relatively simple silver ring with an amethyst stone. She would not be persuaded to take something more expensive or more precious. She wanted that ring, so he had bought it for her. She could be very stubborn once she had made up her mind. And who was he to tell a princess that she needed prettier jewels?  
  
"Princess Amelia, would you do me the great honor of accepting this token of my esteem for you? It's not nearly good enough for you, nor am I, but you can have both of us if you want."   
  
She blushed and smiled and, for a moment, the entire set-up seemed too real for what it was: a fake engagement after a fake relationship. Mia's bright smile looked genuine when he put the ring on her. He thought there were even tears in her eyes. She looked lovely and happy, and it was all just a sham display for their friends. He leaned in and gave her a lingering kiss because that seemed like the sort of thing he would be expected to do, and their friends clapped and called out their congratulations.  
  
"Wow, we're going to need a press conference for this, aren't we?" Jen said. Her work on Piaget's Children's publicity never ceased. She then gave the prospective bride a hug and asked to see the ring up close.   
  
"Mikey M, you'd better not be giving up on the band so you can go off being a prince," Ansel said. "Or do we get to be court musicians and live at the palace?"  
  
Mikey M felt awkward seeing how happy everyone, especially Mia, was about their engagement. His bandmates began to discuss where they should set up their studio on a permanent basis. Felix said he would start taking French lessons. This was all going too far.   
  
He said loudly, "It's all probably going to go nowhere, so don't get your hopes up. Right, Mia? I need to be approved by the Parliament, and Parliament is run by Mia's dad, who hates me."  
  
That did succeed in killing the happy mood in the room. Even Mia, who knew all this just as well as he did, looked disappointed. He hated to see her looking sad after she had seemed so happy before, so he shrugged and said, "But we're still going to try, right Mia? We could be surprised." He didn't believe anything he was saying, but he did make Mia smile again, though not as widely as before.   
  
The Genovian Parliament was not in session during the summer, but it could be convened on a day's notice for important events. The heir to the throne wanting to get married qualified as an important occasion. So on Monday the petition would be delivered. On Tuesday the proposal would be debated. It would not take very long for the Genovian Parliament to identify all the many, many reasons why Mikey M could not become the Prince Consort, so the debate would probably not last more than a day. The vote would be on Wednesday at the earliest. And then on Thursday Piaget's Children could start moving back to London.   
  
----  
  
(Note: I'm completely making things up about how the Genovian Parliament works, so I expect to be contradicted in Books 6+. Real life is becoming boring again, so I should be able to post more regularly. Thanks for reading my story. Merry Christmas/Happy holidays!) 


	17. Engagement', pt 2

Chapter 12 (cont.) – The 'Engagement', pt 2  
  
"Ms. Renaldo, you will not tell us Mikey M's real name, where he is really from, who he is related to, or why he is banned from Genovia?"  
  
Mia had known that the Genovian Parliament would have tons of questions, but she had not anticipated how awful the actual debate would be. She now stood at the front of the full session of Parliament, with lots of middle-aged and elderly men and women who should be out on the beach or on their yachts enjoying the summer vacation. They did not want to be there, and Mia certainly did not want to be there, but they all had to follow the proper procedures in order to tell Mia that she could not be with the man she loved.   
  
"I know his real name, where he's from, who his family is, and why he's banned from Genovia, and you have to trust me when I say that it doesn't matter. He is a really great guy. He just likes to keep some things secret."  
  
An older member of Parliament grumbled, "Some things? His entire identity is a secret." There were a few murmurs of agreement from the other members. The debate was not going well for Mia.  
  
Prince Phillipe had announced at the very beginning that he was not going to take part in the discussion. That was one thing Mia could be happy about. He had not talked to Mia at all about her engagement to Mikey M. She had gone back to the palace last night after dinner at Mirabeau, and she had a long talk with Ted and Francine about how to handle the next week, but her father and her grandmother made no efforts to speak to her. They must be furious.  
  
At least Prince Phillipe did not seem too unreasonably angry today. He sat at the front of the hall and silently presided over the assembly. He pointed to the next speaker but, true to his word, did not say a thing himself. Usually he was a very active participant in Parliamentary debates.   
  
"I don't suppose you will tell us whether the young man is Catholic," the next speaker said.   
  
That could not be too big of a secret. Anyone could follow Mikey M on Sundays and see whether he went to mass. Mia was happy to be able to finally answer a question. "No, he is not Catholic." Michael would not want her to tell everyone that he was a non-practicing Jew. Way too personal. And it's not like that full answer would make the members of Parliament more willing to let Mia marry him. The royal house of Renaldo has been staunchly Catholic for centuries.  
  
The speaker was surprised to have gotten any response to his question. He said more kindly, "Mikey M is not quite the … expected person for a royal prince consort."  
  
Michael was already doing a pretty good job at being her prince consort. The Italian prime minister had loved him. Ted and Francine said that there were more tourists in Genovia this summer than ever before. Thanks to Mikey M, people knew where Genovia was, and they even knew who Princess Amelia was. And Michael had been fabulous. No angry confrontations with her father or grandmother. No complaints about still not being able to enter Genovia. He had been on his best behavior.  
  
He was not "expected", not by her or by anyone else, but he was still her perfect prince. The petition would never pass, so he would never actually become the official prince consort of Genovia, even if he wanted to, but that did not make him any less suited for the position.  
  
"I'm sorry if you are disappointed in my choice. I don't know of anyone better."   
  
She had to be very careful about the phrasing of her replies. First of all, the entire debate was in French and many of the members of Parliament used big words that Mia probably did not even understand in English. But more importantly, she knew that every word she was saying was being recorded somewhere. The Parliament session was closed to the press, but the transcript would one day be released and the members of Parliament could talk.  
  
If Mia spent the entire time talking about how much she loved Michael, he would eventually find out. But by not saying that she loved him, she was not presenting a very eloquent case for her petition. This was her first real appearance at Parliament in years, and everyone was annoyed at her for wasting their vacation time on this. Mikey M would get his dramatic ending to their relationship, but Mia may lose credibility in her own government in the process.  
  
Another member of Parliament said, "Would you like to elaborate on the young man's qualifications, Ms. Renaldo?"  
  
No, she would not like to elaborate. She would like to hide in the corner for the rest of the debate and hear the outcome of the final vote tomorrow. But she was there, so she would have to do her best not to sound like an idiot, though she really must have been a complete idiot to have agreed to get engaged to Michael Moscovitz. He couldn't wait to get rid of her. He should be the one there, not her. All these questions were about him, after all.  
  
She was still thinking of what to say next when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and saw the one person she most needed to see: Michael! In a suit! Standing next to her! Mia had never been so happy to see him in her life. OK, she always was glad to see him, but this was a bigger happy-to-see-him than usual. He came to Parliament for her! She didn't think about her father's reaction or about the security guards already visible in the doorway. She hugged him and said into his ear, "Thank you."  
  
He was still holding her in front of the entire Genovian Parliament and whispered, "Blame René. He decided to sneak me into here. I don't think there's an escape plan, though. What do I do now?"  
  
His proper response should have been some quick declaration of love and maybe a nice speech about how he couldn't stand to leave her to face everyone by herself, but the important thing was that he was there now when she needed him.  
  
She then noticed that everyone in the room was staring at them. She was not behaving like the princess ought to. She reluctantly let go of her wonderful, handsome fiancé and stepped back. She said in a low voice, "Answer their questions. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to, but don't lie. There are really harsh perjury laws in Genovia."  
  
"I wouldn't want to get banned from entering the country for telling lies." He half-heartedly smiled, but Mia could tell that he was actually nervous. Mikey M performed at stadiums for tens of thousands of fans, he appeared on TV all the time, and he was now scared of saying the wrong thing in front of Parliament. He knew how important this was to her. He was such an intelligent, sensitive, fantastic guy. How could the members of Parliament not see how perfect he was?  
  
Mikey M looked around the room, nodded to Prince Phillipe since Mia's father was glaring at him, and then stepped up to the podium where Mia had been speaking all morning. Mia stood at his side and held his hand for extra reassurance. Plus it made them look even more like the happy couple they were pretending to be. She had needed him, and he had come. This was going to be the end of their relationship, but she was still happy to have him there.   
  
"Good morning," Mikey M said into the microphone. None of the members of Parliament said anything, so he said, "I'm Mikey M. You probably have lots of questions for me. Right?" People were still too surprised by his appearance and by his addressing them in his usual perfect French, to begin asking him questions about his upbringing or health or last name. "I heard you asking Princess Amelia about my qualifications for being her prince consort. If you will let me, I can answer that." There were no objections, least of all from Mia, so he continued.  
  
"I am fluent in French, Italian, German, and English. I know all about world politics, economics, and everything you ever wanted to know about Genovia. I could probably teach your government press secretaries a thing or two about how to deal with the media. I make speeches, I throw good parties, I have excellent manners, I dress well, I can sing and dance, and people usually like me."   
  
Singing and dancing were not usual requirements for prince consort, but Mia thought that he was doing pretty well at proving how cool he was. No one was interrupting him yet with objections, so Mikey M spoke on.   
  
"I guess there are a few problems with me. I'm not giving up my band or touring, so I'll be out of the country a few months every year. You people take time off, too. I don't get along well with my future in-laws, but that's our problem, not Parliament's. And I won't tell you my real name. I like to keep my past private. I will tell you anything you want to know about my present situation. I can show you that I don't need to marry your princess for her fortune or for publicity. I have both. I choose to be with her, and she chooses to be with me. Because of her weird situation in life, that means we have to write a petition and call you back from vacation to make it official."  
  
No mention of love or even liking Mia. He was being very careful about avoiding perjury. He was done with his little speech about himself, so now he scanned the room and waited for the inevitable questions that Mia had been deflecting all morning.  
  
Finally one of the members of Parliament stepped forward to speak. "Mr., well, Mr. M, you do understand that marrying Ms. Renaldo would not just mean you get a pretty wife. You would have to undertake serious commitments to Genovia."  
  
"Of course. I would live here in Genovia, assuming that Prince Phillipe lifts the ban on my being in the country. I hope he will make an allowance for today, at least, since I came here only to speak in this debate."  
  
Prince Phillipe did not say anything. He also did nothing to call back the guards standing at the exits. The security for sessions of the Genovian Parliament was always very high, but there were not usually armed guards waiting to arrest people taking part in debates. After the debacle at Mia's birthday party, Prince Phillipe would not let Mikey M escape again. It was a miracle that René succeeded in getting him into the building at all.  
  
Another member of Parliament said, "You may not be able to keep all your secrets forever, Mr. M. Would the truth of your identity and the story behind your ban from Genovia cause embarrassment to the country and to the Renaldo family, if it were made public after your marrying our princess?"  
  
Mikey M did not immediately reply. He looked at Mia and then at Prince Phillipe, and said, "Yes, it would cause some embarrassment. Mine, mostly."  
  
"Mr. Renaldo, what do you think?"  
  
Prince Phillipe leaned forward to speak into the microphone by his chair. "I have already told this chamber that I will not be taking part in the debate, but I will answer your question. If Mikey M's real identity is revealed, it would make my opposition to this proposed marriage look much more reasonable and his presence in this room even more objectionable. There are enough objections to him for us not to have to worry about his real identity. My daughter will never marry him, and I have confidence that my colleagues here will not allow her to make a big mistake that could have harmful repercussions for all of Genovia."  
  
Her father had not said anything that she did not already know that he believed, but Mia was shocked to hear him speak so plainly. It was the "never" that really affected her. They were living in the twenty-first century. Fathers no longer determined whom daughters married. Her thoughts and feelings deserved more respect.   
  
"I can make my own decisions about my life," she said sharply. "I choose to be with Michael forever. OK? The past month I've spent with him has been the happiest time of my life. We'd like to stay together, but I can't keep on sneaking off after dinner to see him in France, and he can't keep on rearranging his life so we can have dessert together. I want him in Genovia with me. He'd be able to stay with me if we were married. And that's why you people are here. He is good for me. This is not a mistake."  
  
At some point she had let go of Michael's hand, and he had put his arm around her waist to support her. She did need him to lean on now. She had just made things worse for herself by telling the simple truth, didn't she? At least she stopped before an explicit declaration of love for her fiancé, but she was already worried about what Mikey M would say to her when they were alone.   
  
Mia's outburst had surprised the members of Parliament into doing what they should have been doing all along: interrogate her fiancé. "Mr. M, you are an American citizen?"  
  
"Yes." His voice sounded the same, at the very least, so if he had any idea now of what she really felt, he was doing a good job at hiding his astonishment.  
  
"Are you or have you ever been active in American politics?"  
  
"I vote, but that's about it."  
  
"What is your educational background?"  
  
"Some college. I dropped out before I started my music career."  
  
"Which college?"  
  
"I won't answer that question. Sorry. I do not have a degree from any."  
  
"How long have you known Princess Amelia?"  
  
"Long enough."  
  
"Do you have a criminal record?"  
  
"I won't answer that question either."  
  
"Have you committed any serious crimes?"  
  
"Prince Phillipe will say yes and I will say no. I won't say more than that."  
  
The questions continued for the next hour and a half. Mia said little. She was happy to stand at Mikey M's side and to try not to look in her father's direction. Prince Phillipe was also silent. Some of the members of Parliament seemed to actually like Mikey M. The younger members, in particular, were almost openly in favor of him. But everyone knew that there was no chance of the petition succeeding. Not with Prince Phillipe vehemently opposing it, and not with Mikey M being unwilling or unable to give straight answers to over half the questions asked.  
  
Finally the session came to an end, and Prince Phillipe dismissed the members of Parliament until the vote the next day. Mia and Mikey M stayed at the podium where they had been standing all morning, and watched the other people leave. Mia's dad had left the room immediately, without making any attempt to speak with them.  
  
"I wish Dad would be reasonable and call off the guards," Mia said. "I guess you are to be arrested on sight if you ever enter Genovia, right?"  
  
"Yes, and face the full penalty for what I did back in New York. But I don't think your dad would really follow through on it. If he was going to tell everyone who I was, he'd do it today instead of doing it in the courts. He'll probably just exile me again." Mikey M did not sound concerned about being arrested, but he was still closely watching all the exits for any sign of the guards going away.  
  
"Well, thanks for coming. I didn't realize how bad this entire process would be. I didn't think they'd debate for so long."  
  
"It'd be more of a debate if anyone was actually on our side. It was an interrogation."  
  
"Not a very successful one. You didn't tell them much more than I told them."  
  
"I came, and everyone on the outside will know that. Especially now that I'm going to be arrested. The press will like that." He did not seem very enthusiastic about that part of the plan. Their dramatic ending was not supposed to involve handcuffs and jail cells.   
  
They were one of the few people remaining in the hall, and the guards were still at the doors and watching them. Mia put the few papers she had brought along with her into a bag and was ready to go. René was nowhere to be seen, the useless prat. Mia was still very glad that Mikey M had come, but didn't René think at all about how they would all leave?  
  
She said, "All exits are guarded, so I guess we might as well peacefully surrender."  
  
"We? Don't tell me you're breaking laws now, too? I know you said you have harsh perjury laws here, but they can't already know that you don't really want to spend forever with me."  
  
He thought she wasn't serious about what she had said. Fantastic. He wanted to be with her so little that he wouldn't even entertain the possibility that Mia had been telling the truth. But she still loved him, even if he was being a little dense.  
  
Now was not the time to clarify her current romantic status with her fake fiancé. She had to get Mikey M out of Genovian jail as quickly as possible and get him safely back to France. First step: get him into jail. He was not going to like that part very much.  
  
"I'm not being arrested, you are. But I'm not going to let them take you away from me. We're engaged, remember? Where you go, I go. So let's go to jail."  
  
He still tried to protest, but Mia would not listen to any of the reasons why she could not possibly go to jail with him. She had to practically drag Mikey M down the aisle to the nearest exit, where the guards were waiting. 


	18. In Jail Again, pt 1

Chapter 13 – In Jail Again, pt 1  
  
The worst part about being locked in a jail cell in a country ruled by his girlfriend's vengeful father was the lack of good reading material. Mia had given Mikey M a newspaper, but he was done reading it. As far as Genovia's newspaper was concerned, nothing at all was happening in the whole entire world besides Mia's engagement. And they had a lot to say about that very, very fascinating topic.   
  
The front page article stuck to the facts. "Princess Amelia shocked the world by announcing her engagement to the American rock musician Mikey M. A special session of Parliament will be convened to deal with this scandal. The engagement cannot be dissolved until a vote on Wednesday." That was one way of looking at the situation.  
  
An editorial said: "The Renaldo family will have the support of the Genovian public as they deal with the aftermath of this very reckless action of the young princess." Mikey M was glad that Genovia's press was taking the news of their engagement so well.  
  
Then came the wonderful letters to the editor. "Princess Clarisse should have taken a stand weeks ago and gotten rid of the boy." "It is all a publicity ploy for Piaget's Children. The entire band should be banned from Genovia and France. Their albums should be removed from the music stores." "Princess Amelia has great taste. Look at the guy. He could be my consort any day of the week." OK, so there was one person in Genovia who liked him. Well, two if you counted Mia.  
  
He was not surprised that people did not want him to marry their princess. He had been counting on everyone's disapproval. That was part of the plan. It made things more exciting and dramatic! Their love would be abandoned for the sake of Genovia. He would never be accepted as Mia's prince consort, so she would give him up. He would not want to make her suffer more than she had to, so he would graciously leave. It would be a bittersweet ending to their doomed love affair.  
  
He was re-reading the letter about how great he was when the door to his cell opened. He had a visitor: Prince Phillipe.  
  
"I am sorry you have to be kept waiting. Mia and René are fighting over who gets to pay your bail."   
  
Phillipe looked around the small room and found nothing he could disapprove of. It was a small tiled room with no windows and one wooden bench that Mikey M was sitting on. It was well-lit, clean, and private. The walls were thick enough to prevent any sound from passing through. No one would hear Mikey M scream if, say, Prince Phillipe wanted to make certain that Michael never came back to Genovia…  
  
Actually, Prince Phillipe did not look at all murderous. He didn't even look like he was there to gloat. He had a large envelope with the label '557'. Mikey M had last seen that envelope back in New York seven years ago. He was confidential case 557. So this was a business meeting.  
  
"I'd offer you a chair but, well…"  
  
"I'm not staying for long. I wanted to make certain you understood how things are." Phillipe opened the envelope and took out a paper filled with small print legalese. It was the agreement they had both signed in New York.   
  
With more confidence in his voice than he felt, Mikey M asked, "So have I been charged yet? Or are we skipping right to the torture and execution?"   
  
"You said today you knew everything about Genovia, so you should be familiar with the legal process. Your bail hearing is going on now. 557 is still a confidential case, so you are being charged with violating conditions in case 557."  
  
Phillipe looked annoyed at Mikey M's casual treatment of the situation. He probably expected more groveling and begging for mercy. But the last time Prince Phillipe had Michael arrested in New York, Michael had been forced to do a lot of groveling and begging to get out of going to prison. This time Mikey M was going to be treated like an important adult. He was Mia's fiancé, after all.  
  
"I leave on bail now and then am expected to show up at the Genovian court house in two weeks. Then the records will be opened and the case will proceed. I know, Mr. Renaldo. How much longer will it be before Mia gets me out of here?"  
  
"I told you, the bail hearing is still going on."  
  
"I guess bail has to be high. I'm a big flight risk."  
  
"You're a flight certainty." Phillipe almost smiled at the idea of Mikey M leaving Genovia for good. Mikey M almost smiled, too. He wanted to be out of there as much as Prince Phillipe wanted him gone. Phillipe looked down at the paper in his hand and said, "If you do not appear for your trial, this envelope goes back to my personal files and everything stays quiet. But if you return to Genovia ever again, the files will be opened and the case will proceed. You understand?"  
  
"Perfectly." That was all part of the agreement Mikey M had signed. Prince Phillipe would never demand that he be extradited to Genovia to stand trial, but if he entered Genovia he would be charged with the embassy break-in. He was still banned from Genovia. No change. No surprises.  
  
Phillipe put the paper back into the envelope and looked like he was getting ready to go. He was too pleased with how smoothly things went with Michael. He looked nearly triumphant.  
  
"I do have one question, Mr. Renaldo."  
  
"Yes?" He actually smiled.  
  
"Suppose after you're dead, Mia decides she doesn't mind me being in Genovia. What will we have to do? I'll still have the breaking bail charge. Does Mia have to pardon me for the bail thing and for mystery 557 before I come back? Or can I just be her special guest and stay out of jail because I'll be with her in the palace? We'll have to work out these details before the wedding."  
  
Prince Phillipe opened his mouth to give an angry reply, but he thought better of it. He knew when he was being mocked. He turned and left, knocking the door so the guard waiting outside in the corridor would let him out. Mikey M was glad to have gotten that reaction. He had made his point. Prince Phillipe would only be able to control him for as long as he was the crown prince. And that wasn't going to be forever. When he died, Mikey M was going to come back to Genovia just to prove that he could. Besides, he would want to see Mia. She was a friend again. He'd miss her when he went away in a few days.  
  
Before he could re-read the one complimentary letter about him on the editorial page, there was a knock on the door. Mia yelled something like, "Can I come in?" The door was too thick for Mikey M to be able to clearly hear what Mia was saying, but he knew it had to be her. Who else would knock first before entering a jail cell?  
  
"Come in," he hollered.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Come in!"  
  
She said something that was probably, "I can't hear you through the door," before she finally had the door unlocked and she came in.  
  
"Oh my god, Michael, are you OK? I'm so, so sorry that you had to be alone in here." She turned around and started to close the door, but a guard stopped her from outside.  
  
"The door locks when it's closed," he said. "Would you like me to wait out here for you, Princess Amelia? If you knock—"  
  
"That's OK. My cousin René is going to get us when the paperwork is done. I'm staying in here until then."   
  
She did not wait for the guard to try to make other arrangements for getting her out of Mikey M's jail cell. She closed the door and went over to Mikey M's bench and made him make room so she could sit next to him. It was not a very large bench, so he put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. It was more comfortable sitting that way than making one of them sit on the floor. Besides, who knew who else would visit him. They were engaged, after all, so it would be expected that she'd practically be sitting on his lap while she looked him over and made certain he really and truly was in no way injured.  
  
Once she was certain of his unharmed state, she laughed with relief and said, "I feel like I'm eighteen again. You're locked up, and you and Dad are making secret deals about you never seeing me again, and I'm expected to stay out of the way, and no one will tell me what's going on and…"   
  
She was babbling like she always did when she was nervous. She was still wearing her formal business suit and looked like the proper princess who had just been addressing the Genovian Parliament, but she was no longer the calm and collected politician. He hugged her and said gently, "I'm fine. Don't worry about it." He let go and she snuggled into a more comfortable position next to him. She still looked more distressed than he felt by the situation. If Mia was there with him, he could be 100% certain nothing bad would happen. She was the princess. Things would work out for him.  
  
"I'm so sorry this had to happen again," she said. "Dad wouldn't listen to me back then, and he won't listen to me now. I'm not even shouting or crying this time. He never takes me seriously. You should not have been charged with anything today. You're here because René and I wanted you here. That's a formal invitation from the royal family. Just because Dad didn't sign off on it doesn't mean–"  
  
"Shouting and crying?"   
  
He did not remember anything like that from back in New York. He had been locked up in Prince Phillipe's private office, and she had stayed at her party. He would have noticed if she was shouting or, really, if she had shown any indication that she knew what was going on.  
  
"That was way back when I was eighteen. I also went on a hunger strike, but that didn't help either. But I'm a mature adult now. I can be reasonable and talk about Genovian laws and Dad still wouldn't—"  
  
"You went on a hunger strike for me?"   
  
He didn't believe it. She had dumped him, and then he had gotten them in all the tabloids. She had not wanted to see him when he surprised her in the ballroom. She had every reason to be very, very annoyed at him back then.  
  
"It didn't last very long. Only one day, but it was a very long day. Grandmère was so mean and had the embassy staff serve all my favorite dishes. I kept on saying that I wouldn't eat until I could see you. Then Lars said you weren't in New York at all anymore, so it didn't seem like there was any point in fasting. You completely vanished."  
  
Michael knew that she had not done anything for him after the ball. He would have noticed. She couldn't be telling the truth. If she had really wanted to see him, she would have been able to. Once he heard that Columbia was putting him on psychiatric leave, he let his parents send him off to Florida to stay with his grandparents. It wasn't a big secret.  
  
He still had to ask, "You looked?"  
  
"Of course I did. What do you think I'd do? You crashed my birthday party, broke tons of laws, and got nearly thrown out of college so you could tell me you loved me. I thought you were going mental. I was concerned. Your parents made it sound like you were in some mental institution, so if I kept on trying to find you I'd make things worse and you'd completely go off the deep end. I felt so bad. It was awful."  
  
He still had his arm around her waist. He pulled her a bit closer and hugged her again. Mia looked miserable just from the memory of those times. She must have worried about him a whole lot. And he had no idea. He had had absolutely no clue. He had been so caught up in being heartbroken that it had never occurred to him that maybe, just possibly, Mia could have wanted to know how he was.  
  
He said, "It was all my own fault. I'm not very good at being dumped. I did all those stupid things because I was an idiot, not because of anything you did."  
  
"I needed to know that you were OK. Then Lars told me that he was keeping track of you. So every now and then, whenever something reminded me of you, I'd ask Lars whether you were all right, and he said you were. I really could have killed Lars after the party last May. He didn't warn me at all about you being in Piaget's Children. I guess I should have figured it out for myself. How many twenty-eight-year-old Americans are banned from Genovia?"  
  
"But… I thought…" he said slowly. He had spent years hating the memory of Mia Thermopolis, and during that time she stayed away because she thought he was too mentally unstable to see her. She had wondered about him for all these years.  
  
"What's wrong? Are you OK?"  
  
"I'm fine. It's just… I never knew you cared."  
  
------  
  
(Author's Note: Sorry for the big delay in getting this part out. And sorry that it's so short. I'm trying to get back to a more regular posting schedule. There's still quite a bit of this story left. Thanks for reading!) 


	19. In Jail Again, pt 2

Chapter 13 (cont.) – In Jail Again, pt 2  
  
What did Mia do wrong this time? She had nearly confessed her undying love for Michael Moscovitz twice in the same day – first, in front of the entire Genovian Parliament and, second, alone in a small room with his arms around her – and he wasn't saying anything. Mikey M was staring off into space, as if the tiled wall in front of them had suddenly become much more interesting than it had been during the last two hours he had spent in the jail cell.  
  
Mia did not expect him to confess that he was still in love with her and that he would do whatever it took to become the next Genovian Prince Consort – she was not that delusional – but she expected some acknowledgement of what she was going through. Maybe a joke. The poor princess pining over a madman.   
  
But Mikey M wouldn't even look at her! He still held her closely, but he was mentally off in Tibet or Australia or maybe Mars. Mia hated when he retreated to his distant, international rock star mode. She wanted to talk more about that night back in New York City that dramatically changed both their lives. She wanted to tell him everything she had tried to do for him.  
  
For a moment he had looked completely astonished by the idea that she had cared about him back in New York. If he knew just how much she cared about him now, he might have a heart attack.   
  
If she could, Mia would let the world know that she was still in love with her psycho ex-boyfriend. She would tell her father and her grandmother that she would marry Michael now, or she would wait until they died so they couldn't stop her. Mia would tell Parliament that Mikey M would move into the Palace and they would live together like husband and wife, whether they were allowed to officially marry or not. Let the conservative Catholics say what they want. Let the entire Genovian public write angry letters to the newspapers.   
  
Mia wanted Michael in her life again, if he was willing to be with her. It was too bad that he would rather be a wildly successful musician without her. He did not need her at all, and she hated knowing that.  
  
Mikey M was still contemplating the walls, and he did not look very happy about whatever he was thinking. What was so awful about her being concerned about his welfare? Back in New York, he had been her friend for even longer than he had been her boyfriend. She would have to be the most heartless person in the world to completely abandon him.  
  
Then Mia thought about her birthday party in May. Mikey M had wanted nothing to do with the party, and then when he did get pressured into agreeing, he did everything he could to get out of there as soon as possible. He jumped out of the window to get away from her dad and her. He seriously did think she had completely given up on him.  
  
"You don't hate me still, do you?" she asked.  
  
"Of course not," he snapped.   
  
Oh god, Michael hated her and now she was annoying him and he was still in jail when Mia said she'd get him out and everyone was going to find out his true identity because of her and he was going to hate her even more and he would never come back to Genovia again and she'd never see him again and… and…   
  
He must have sensed her developing panic. He lightly tapped the engagement ring still on her finger and said more gently, "You're wearing my ring, remember? I only propose to people I think are cool."  
  
She smiled, then noticed he was looking more serious than ever. He was looking down at the purple ring, but he must be thinking about something else. The Middle East peace process. Ways to revitalize the world economy. NATO expansion. How to hide his extreme hatred for Genovia and all members of the Genovian royal family.  
  
"Seriously, Michael. I know you're here because you felt sorry for me, not because you like me or anything. So has the last month been really awful for you?" She stopped herself from telling him what she had already said that morning. The last month had truly been the happiest of her life, even if it was all just a game they were playing with the media, their friends, and Mia's loyal subjects.   
  
He finally looked away from her ring and shook his head no. "I'm here to help you. I don't help people I don't like. I think I actually enjoyed all this, in a way."  
  
"In a way?" Mia repeated. Was he trying to avoid being too mean or too nice? If she lived the next two hundred years with Mikey M, she would still never understand him. And what was so interesting about the damn wall?   
  
Before Mia could think of a way to get a more direct answer out of him, the jail cell door opened. René came in carrying some official looking papers. Prince Pierre René Grimaldi Alberto was not one of Mia's favorite people right now. First he got her fiancé arrested, then he got in the way when Mia was negotiating the conditions for her fiancé's bail and release. Now he was interrupting when she could be having a real heart-to-heart discussion with the man she loved.  
  
"I'm here to rescue you," René announced. "You are all right, yes? I told Mia you would be. But when she heard that Phillipe was talking to you she had to make certain you were still alive."   
  
Now Michael could grin and chat and be friendly. "I'm fine. But I'd love to get out of here. Do I have to sign something?" Maybe he liked René more than he liked Mia. Or maybe he was just really glad to be on his way out of Genovia and away from Mia and her family.  
  
René handed the papers to Mikey M. "They are just the standard promises that you'll return for your arraignment. Don't worry, Mia and I will get you out of that somehow. Right, Mia? We're not going to let you return to this charming little jail cell."  
  
"I'm not going to." Mikey M took his arm from around Mia and took a pen from René. He skimmed the papers and started signing the various declarations.  
  
Michael knew how little power and influence Mia and René had in Genovian politics, so he would know how hopeless they would be to get his case thrown out before his scheduled arraignment in two weeks. So if he wanted to stay out of jail, he was going to have to stay out of Genovia. Again.  
  
It was all part of the plan. Parliament would send Mikey M away for good, Mia would be the tragic heroine, and they would have a really good story for why they couldn't be together. But now that Mia was no longer interested in good reasons why they could not live happily ever after, she really wished the plan wasn't working so well. Michael was too smart for his own good.  
  
Mikey M handed the papers back to René and asked, "Anything else I need to do? Do I get an armed escort to the border? Another friendly visit from the prince?"  
  
"You may want the armed escort. You should see all the reporters outside. There's an official statement from the government about the charges, but if you two want to have another press conference…"  
  
René never grew tired of facing the press. He would have given a press conference himself to tell everyone how it was all his fault that Mikey M was there in jail. He'd tell people anything as long as they were listening and taking pictures.   
  
"Let Jen handle the media. That's her job. We're going home," Mikey M said. That was a direct order. René took the papers away and the guards returned Mikey M's things while Mia called ahead to Mirabeau to arrange for a car to pick them up. They left the Genovian Department of Justice building together, holding hands but not saying a word to the press about the day's drama. They still looked like a happy couple, even if their engagement would be ended by decree on the next day.  
  
Back at Mirabeau, Mia had to reassure their friends again and again that Mikey M was fine. The man himself vanished as soon as they got back. He said he wanted a shower, then he was heard going to the studio to work.   
  
"That's how Mikey handles stress," Felix said after Mia suggested for the tenth time that someone should check on him. "He'll be out when he's ready."  
  
Michael had had to sneak into the Genovian Parliament building without being caught with only René for help, then he had had to endure a lengthy interrogation in front of a full session of Parliament, then he had spent a few hours in jail, only one step away from having his true identity and all his secrets revealed in court. Tomorrow would not be much better, with the Parliament vote and their very public break-up. He deserved some quiet time to himself.   
  
But this would be the last evening Mia would be able to spend with Michael. He had to know that she still cared for him. Maybe, some day, far in the future, he'd come back to Genovia. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to actually romantically pursue him. Even in her most optimistic dreams, she accepted that it would be years before they would be able to be seen together in public even as mere friends. He had too much pride to want to stick around after the way the Genovian Parliament was going to be treating him. And he had his own life to return to. His band. His album. His tours. His many, many girlfriends.  
  
She was not going to let herself be jealous of all of Mikey M's future romantic conquests. She was still wearing his ring, so he was officially all hers. And she wanted to see him.   
  
Mia put down the magazine she had been pretending to read and announced to the room, "I'm going to pop in the studio and see whether Michael wants anything to eat."   
  
"He had food sent there from the kitchen after we had dinner," Kristy said, being as overly helpful as ever. Out of all their friends, she had been among the most concerned over Mikey M's well-being in Genovian jail, so Mia had to like her even more now. Mia liked knowing that these people would be looking after Michael back in London. But she would appreciate their being a little less observant sometimes.  
  
"Then … maybe he wants dessert?"  
  
Kristy opened her mouth to report what dessert he had already selected, but Felix stopped her. "I don't think we're going to keep Mia away from him."  
  
"I'd throw you all in jail in Genovia if you tried."   
  
Mia would miss the pleasant evenings at Mirabeau with Piaget's Children, even when she was not with Michael. They all knew that Mia was completely crazy about Mikey M, and she did not have to worry about maintaining her dignity as a future government leader and as a royal princess. To them, she was a funny girl in love.  
  
Mia listened at the door before knocking and going into the banquet-hall-turned-studio. It was completely silent inside. She went in and saw that Mikey M was not even sitting down with the instruments. The room was empty. There were too many people in the chateau for him to have left the studio without anyone else noticing. Then she noticed the open window. Why couldn't he use doors like normal people?  
  
The room was on the ground level. That was one thing to be happy for, because Mia already knew that she was going to have to go out the window and look for Michael herself. She wished she had changed out of the suit she had worn to Parliament earlier that day, but it was too late to change her shoes. She sat on the window sill and cautiously swung her legs through the window opening. The gardeners would kill them in the morning.  
  
The security at Mirabeau had been increased in the last few weeks. There would be no reporters or photographers sneaking onto the grounds now. It was a warm night, but Mia had just left all their friends in the drawing room. The only people who would be out would be the security guards on patrol on the grounds and, of course, Mikey M.  
  
Mirabeau had acres of well-kept gardens with meandering paths and secluded benches perfect for hiding from the world and from well-meaning fiancées. Mia was very lucky that Michael had not walked far from the studio. She still would have walked right by him in the dark had he not called after her.  
  
"Looking for me?" he asked. He was lying on his back on a long stone bench by the main garden path.  
  
"Yes." Mia waited while he slowly sat up. He did not immediately send her away. He actually smiled, like he was glad to have been found.  
  
"Did you go through the window wearing that?" Or maybe he was smiling because she was wandering around the gardens at night dressed in a business suit more suited for Parliament appearances. Still, he was smiling, so that was good.  
  
Mia sat down next to him and said, "Wait for me to put on some good shoes the next time you decide to go out a window. You could have just told everyone you wanted to go for a walk in the gardens."  
  
"I didn't know I wanted to go for a walk in the gardens until I was in the studio."  
  
No one was supposed to be out on the grounds, so the garden lights were turned off. Mia and Mikey M sat next to each other in the darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight. He had changed into jeans and a Clash T-shirt. He was wearing flip-flops. Mia hadn't seen them in his room before. He hadn't brushed his hair after his shower, so his messy curls were flopping in every direction. He hated when his hair got in front of his eyes. He had said a few days ago that he should get it cut when he got back to London. She liked it the way it was. Mia liked being near him and being able to watch him, even if he was not in a talking mood.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said finally. "You've been trying to be a friend, and I've been treating you like crap, haven't I?"  
  
Mia did her best not to laugh or, even worse, to hug him for saying that. "You haven't been that bad…" she began, but she wasn't going to let him off so easily. He had been infuriating. He had completely disrupted her boring, orderly life. And he managed to make her fall back in love with him.   
  
"Lilly is in graduate school in Chicago. She's working towards her PhD in clinical psychology. After I'm gone, you should write to her. I think she wants to forgive you for screwing up my life. Now she thinks I had been headed for a major mental breakdown by suppressing my creative urges and studying computer science in college, instead of running off and joining a band."  
  
This time Mia both laughed and hugged him. He was volunteering personal information! That was as surprising as a full declaration of love would have been. She should have known that Lilly would go into psychology like her parents. So there would be a third Dr. Moscovitz in the family. Poor Michael would be psychoanalyzed by all of them.  
  
"What do your parents think about you being here?"   
  
"Dad thought it was an unnecessary risk to my mental well-being. He said it would send me into a depression and sent over some Prozac. Mom thinks that this is an important step to take towards closure. She has wanted me to confront you for years. They both think hiding my identity is very unhealthy."  
  
He was actually relaxed and talking with her, like they really were old friends. He had somehow decided during the course of the day that Mia was allowed to see into his personal life. He accepted the fact that she cared about him, and now he wanted her to know that he was OK.  
  
"What do you think? Do you think you'll ever tell everyone who you are?"  
  
"I never really thought about it. In the beginning I thought no one would care about me enough to try to find out who I am. Then when people started trying to find out who I am, I thought that they would eventually succeed and the game would be over. But they didn't. My grandparents knew a retired judge who still had lots of friends in the Florida justice department, so when I changed my name, I was able to really cover all traces of who I was."   
  
He was speaking quietly and seriously, like she had never heard him speak before. He was talking about what was important to him for the first time in years.  
  
"Do you mind? Not having a name and everything?"  
  
He shook his head. "It's been great. And I do have a name. I'm Mikey M. I do have 'everything'. So I have no regrets about the fabulous life I would have had without being thrown out of college. Can you imagine me as a software engineer? Nine-to-five job, suits and ties, a retirement plan, maybe a house in the suburbs with a good Internet connection."   
  
Mia knew that that was not the future Michael had imagined for himself when he entered college. The French, the Italian, the German, the world politics, the economics courses… He had thought that he would be the Prince Consort of Genovia. He had never wanted anything else, and she had been convinced to break up with him in order to give him a chance to do something else with his life. She had been so stupid.   
  
But it was too late for her to regret what she did in high school. She was back together with Michael Moscovitz, and she didn't want to let him disappear again.   
  
"You know, you really would have been a great prince consort. But it would have been very selfish of me to let you continue repressing your creative urges, like Lilly said. You're a really, really great musician. So I'm glad I was stupid and let you escape."  
  
He didn't laugh like she expected him to. "I was stupid for letting my parents send me away. I thought that was what everyone wanted me to do. Go away and never come back."  
  
Mia should have done more to find him. She should have insisted that Lars tell her where he was. She could have helped, somehow. She hated to think of him having to start over in life as someone new in Florida. He must have been miserable.  
  
"But you've been really happy and successful and… and… happy, right?"  
  
"Sometimes, I think. Yeah, I've been happy. Every now and then." He put his arm around Mia's shoulders and said, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."  
  
He should know by now that Mia worried about everyone, especially the people she loved. "Of course I'm going to worry! You mean you aren't happy? You're famous and rich and successful and you're only happy every now and then?"   
  
"Well, you're a princess. You live in a palace, you have a vault filled with jewels, you get to run the country one day, and you aren't always so happy yourself."   
  
He was not going to change the focus of the conversation to her. She wasn't going to let him. She was going to help him, whether he liked it or not.  
  
"Well, I'm happy now," she said.  
  
"So am I."  
  
Mia did not know who made the first move. Maybe they both did. All that was important was that she was kissing him, for the hundredth time or for the first time, it did not matter. All the kisses from the last month were nothing. They were for show. Who remembered kisses from high school at age twenty-five? She didn't know anything when she was in high school. She certainly had no idea just how amazing Michael Moscovitz was. This was the first kiss that mattered.   
  
He was cautious at first, like he expected her to break away. The idiot. Didn't he realize by now that she loved him? She could tell him again and again that he was important to her, but now she wanted to show him that she meant it. She wanted to banish all doubts in his mind about her feelings. She wanted to be free to love him, completely, passionately, hopelessly.  
  
Neither noticed the security guard walking down the path on his rounds around the estate. He saw two people on a bench, one a tall, scruffy guy in jeans and the other a very neat and prim lady in a tweed suit, making out like a couple of teen-agers. The princess and her musician. It was too bad that Parliament was going to break their engagement in the morning.  
  
-----  
  
(Note: Back to the plot next chapter. Really. Thanks for still reading my story. More is on the way.) 


	20. Change of Plans, pt 1

Chapter 14 – Change of Plans, pt 1  
  
"This is not going to work," Mia proclaimed on Wednesday morning.  
  
That was not the most promising beginning of Mikey M's day. He could wake up now and deal with Mia panicking and thinking too much about all the obstacles they would now have to face if they wanted to stay together, or he could keep his eyes closed and pretend to still be asleep.   
  
"I look like Margaret Thatcher," Mia said next. "It's even worse than yesterday."  
  
He tried not to smile and ruin his fake-sleep act. Mia was just complaining over the phone to Francine about her clothes. He had already heard variations of this argument plenty of times before. And he knew he could end it. Both Mia and Francine always listened to his fashion advice.   
  
He yawned loudly and theatrically threw the sheets to the side of the bed so he could get Mia's attention. She was standing in the bathroom, dressed in a tasteful business suit similar to what she had worn the day before to Parliament. She had been glaring at her reflection in that dull suit while talking on her cell phone, but she could see the movement of the sheets in the bedroom in the mirror. Her eyes widened and she smiled; she noticed he was up.  
  
"I'll—I'll talk to you later." She put away her phone and came into the bedroom. When she smiled like that, she actually could look her age, even when she was wearing Margaret Thatcher's cast-offs.   
  
Of course Mikey M was used to waking up in bed with beautiful women who adored him. That's what successful rock stars did all the time. The band was always on tour or about ready to go on tour, or else he would be leaving soon to go to some other event in some other country with some other group of famous, attractive people. He was experienced in the art of the casual affair.  
  
He was flying back to London soon. There was no way any sort of real relationship between Mikey M and the princess of Genovia could last. It was all going to be over before it even began. They were going to go their separate ways and return to their separate lives.  
  
But still, in spite of everything, he was smiling just as much as Mia. It was absolutely crazy, but he really did love that girl. Even more unbelievably, she loved him. And now they were together, as they should be.  
  
"Morning," Mikey M said.   
  
Mia was too inexperienced for her to be comfortable with the situation. Genovian princesses don't have flings. If René's description of Mia's personal life was at all accurate, Princess Amelia Renaldo did not date at all. She certainly did not seduce innocent men in dark gardens and have her wicked way with them. Now, the morning after, she was awkward and nervous and, still, happy. Really, really happy.  
  
Things would be different now between them, and it was up to him to set the new tone. He was tired of all their games with each other and with the rest of the world. They did not have much time to spend together, so they might as well enjoy it.  
  
He said, "I am going to brush my teeth and then I'm going to kiss you, so you had better stay right there. OK?" He looked around and found where he had thrown his shirt the night before. If Mia was fully dressed, he would at least wear a shirt with his boxers. Pajamas hadn't been his primary concern last night.  
  
Mia watched him as if he were the most fascinating creature in the world doing the most miraculous thing in the world. She would not have thought to complain about his breath if he kissed her now, but a man must have some strict principles in his life, and Mikey M believed that one cannot kiss a woman without brushing one's teeth in the morning.   
  
Mia sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "All right. Go ahead." He could just lean over now and kiss her -- No, teeth-brushing first. Then kiss. He got out of bed and ran his fingers through his hair while he walked over to the bathroom.  
  
"Why can't my hair do that?" Mia said. Now it was her turn to watch him in the bathroom mirror while she was in bed.   
  
"Do what? It's too long." He looked at his reflection to make a critical assessment of the state of his hair, but then he saw Mia still sitting on the bed watching him. She was much more interesting to watch than his hair. Which really did look perfectly ordinary and boring and too long to him.  
  
"Your hair just flops the right way," Mia said.   
  
The future leader of Genovia liked the way his hair flopped. Smiling made brushing one's teeth more difficult. But the task was done, so he could give Mia the kiss that she deserved for being, well, Mia.  
  
"When do you leave for London?" she asked.  
  
"We start sending things back tomorrow. I leave when I want. I can't stay here, but I'm sure René would let me stay at Miragnac for a bit longer." He hadn't thought that far ahead yet, but he knew he could not leave the area now. In another week he'd have to get back to his work on his album, but he could take some more time off. He had his princess now.  
  
"You're going to visit," he said more as a statement than a question. Yes, Mia would come to London, so they would not have to really break up yet.   
  
Except they were going to break up today. Damn. The petition. Parliament.   
  
"So, that's going to be it? Sometimes I visit?" Mia was no longer smiling. They both knew that this was the way things had to be, and he didn't want to dwell on it. He'd much rather make her smile and get her to disobey the tacit business-formal dress code at the sessions of the Genovian Parliament.  
  
"I'd come over and stay in the guest wing at the Genovian royal palace if I wasn't going to be arrested," he said, "but don't worry about that. Not now. You need to get changed."  
  
"Changed? But I'm already dressed."   
  
Whenever Mia spent the night at Mirabeau, Francine would send over clothes for the next day. So all the clothes Mia had at Mirabeau were yesterday's and day's boring suits. And the simple light pink sundress she had bought last weekend. She had changed out of that dress once they had returned to Mirabeau and found the Francince-approved outfit waiting for her, and Mia hadn't thought of taking the dress back to Genovia with her.   
  
Mikey M found where the chateau staff had put the dress in his closet, and he found mixed with his own shoes the sandals Mia had bought. Mia felt more confident when she was looking good, and she had looked really cute in the dress. Plus when they faced all the cameras, she'd want people to see her in pink, not beige.  
  
He came out of his closet and handed the dress and shoes to his princess. She looked at the clothes, then looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm going to Parliament for the vote today, remember?"  
  
"You look nice in pink."  
  
She half-smiled, but she wouldn't let herself acknowledge that he was right. She had to always think like a proper princess. "I know you've been helping me improve my clothes and image all that, but people don't wear pink to Parliament. It's—it's just not done. I can't." She still held onto the dress and shoes.  
  
"Why not? We're just staying long enough to hear the results of the vote, right? Then we have to hold our press conference." He went into the closet to find something for himself.  
  
"Because it's not— Wait, 'we'?"  
  
"What did you say yesterday? We're engaged, so wherever you go, I go. It's not like your dad can arrest me again. Right?" He changed into a light gray button-down shirt and black trousers. They would be the only people in the entire Genovian Parliament building not in suits.   
  
"But the plan was for me to go to Genovia this morning, then come back here for the press conference with you," Mia said, but she didn't sound very convinced by her argument.  
  
"The plans changed." He came out of the closet and checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Mia was right. His hair really did flop in place correctly.  
  
"Yeah, they've changed all right." Mia looked at him, then looked at her dress, and smiled. The alteration of the plan was accepted, and she now needed to get changed quickly so they would not be late.  
  
They did not have time to join the others for breakfast at Mirabeau. Mikey M told Jen that he was now going to Genovia for the morning, and then the princess and the musician left in the royal Genovian limo to go to Parliament.  
  
"We're going to really talk about the future some time, right?" Mia asked during the ride.  
  
He didn't see what they had to discuss. He now recognized that he loved her, but he was still Mikey M. He still had his obligations to Piaget's Children. She said she loved him, but she was still Princess Amelia Renaldo. She was never going to neglect her responsibilities towards Genovia. As was going to be proven that morning, he would never be accepted as Mia's prince consort. Prince Phillipe was not going to drop all the charges against Michael and let him ever visit Genovia. Mia and Michael had no long-term future together.  
  
But there was still the very pleasant short-term future to contemplate and enjoy. He kissed the top of her head and said, "Sure. But later, OK? We have to become unengaged first."  
  
"Don't remind me. I'm keeping the ring, though." She looked down at it now. "We have no idea what we're really going to say at the press conference this afternoon, do we? I mean, before we were going to talk about how we're forced to stay apart, but now..."  
  
"Now we're going to tell them that you're still going to wear my ring, and I'm still going to take you out whenever I can. We can't get married. So what."   
  
Mia still would eventually need a real Prince Consort. Mikey M would only be a complication in her life so long as they were romantically involved. She needed a boyfriend – a husband – who could be a support for her. Once she was the Crown Princess, she wouldn't have time to fly to London to see him.   
  
Once she was Crown Princess, she'd be able to drop the case against him, and he would be able to visit her. Not that that would change the situation much. He would still make a terrible Prince Consort. He had to tour. He had to keep making music. He had his own life, completely independent of her.  
  
So they would eventually have to end their relationship. Perhaps they'd fall out of love. They'd eventually have to accept the reality of their situation. They were adults. Love was only an emotion. It couldn't magically make their lives compatible. Nothing could.  
  
"Are you OK?" she asked.  
  
The car was pulling up in front of the Parliament building. The reporters, photographers, and TV crews were already out there, waiting for them. Mikey M said, "I'm fine. How long do you think this should all take?"  
  
"Not very long. Come on, we have to go in. If the guards at the door don't let me in because I'm under-dressed, I'm blaming you."  
  
"François and I will beat them up if they don't tell you how stunning you are looking today."  
  
They had their picture taken many times and from many angles on their way from the car to the building. No time for questions, no interviews, there would be a press conference in the afternoon at Mirabeau for that. The guards at the front door were more surprised to see Public Enemy #1, Mikey M, come in than to see Mia wearing pink.  
  
"I'm out on bail," he explained.   
  
Of course everyone already knew that, but he was still not expected to come casually walking through the front doors. The guards called to report his arrival to Prince Phillipe, and Mia, Mikey M, and François walked down the corridors to the main chamber of Parliament. Mia greeted many of the government officials they passed in the halls. She may usually spend her days drinking tea with the spouses of world leaders, but she had gotten to know a lot about how her country's government worked. She would have fit in with the rest of the government drones if she wasn't wearing the pink dress.  
  
They stopped outside the doors to the main chamber of Parliament. The official roll call was still taking place. Then would come the big vote. Mikey M did not know what the protocol was for Mia and him. Would they stand in the front and make one last plea in the name of Love? Or would they sit in the visitor's galley and try to deduce based on the members of Parliament's facial expressions what they voted for?   
  
He did not want to go in there. Mia didn't look all that eager to open the door, either. Seeing the vote would mean watching their engagement be broken. Maybe if the doors stayed shut forever, they could forget about the reality of their situation and just have fun together.   
  
"I don't want to go..." Mia began, then she shook her head. She was bracing herself for the unpleasantness on the other side of the door. She already looked miserable.  
  
Mikey M took her by the hand and pointed to a portrait on the wall, next to the doors they were still standing in front of. "Is that Grandmère's husband?" he asked.   
  
Mia bit her lip, still trying to decide whether to just go through the doors. She took a step towards the portrait and looked at it. Cowardice won. Mikey M was relieved. "Yeah. I never met him. He fought against the Nazis."  
  
"Like Grandmère's tea with Hitler and Mussolini?"  
  
Mia smiled weakly and shook her head. "For real. Grandpère kicked a lot of Nazi butt. I'll have to take you to the Genovian history museum. They have his medals."  
  
"I'll believe it when I see it. But if he did marry your grandmother, he must have been a very brave man."   
  
Someone walked by them and went into the chamber of Parliament, but Mia didn't make any move to follow. She waited until the door was closed, then she looked back at the portrait of her grandfather. "Grandmère says he adored her. Maybe she used to be nice or something."  
  
"Right." Mikey M walked over to the next portrait, a few more feet away from the doors to the chamber of Parliament. He wanted to put as much distance between the vote in Parliament and them as possible. "Is he your great-grandfather?"  
  
"Yes. He married someone in René's family – a great, great aunt? I don't know, but Grandmère does. She's always telling me about my dead relatives. Anyway, it's all his fault that we're stuck with René now."   
  
René may not be the most responsible and respectable member of the Renaldo extended family, but everyone liked him. Mia could complain about him, but even now she was smiling about being stuck having to support him. Mikey M now genuinely liked his "old friend", Prince René, too. René was the one who got Michael to come back to Genovia to see Mia, after all. So Mikey M had only charitable feelings towards Mia's great-grandfather.  
  
"I thought you were keeping René around so you could marry him once you get rid of me." He was rewarded with a punch on the arm for that, and a genuine, happy smile.  
  
The doors opened again, and this time Francine came out. "Mia! Oh, wow, Mikey M, you're here, too. It's about time for the vote, so you should go in there."  
  
Mia gripped Michael's hand more tightly. She shook her head and said, "I don't think we're going to go in. OK?" That question was directed towards Michael, not Francine. Of course he had no objections to that. Francine was surprised, but she did not try to make Mia change her mind. She went back inside, and Mia walked over to the next portrait.  
  
"Great Aunt Josephine. They must have moved this portrait closer to the front since she died recently. She's Sebastiano's mother, so she hated me. If it weren't for me, her son would be the heir to the throne."  
  
"'Hate' is probably too strong of a word."  
  
"Oh no, she really hated me. She told everyone that I was not a legitimate heir because Mom and Dad were never married. And she tried to convince people to have me take a paternity test because my mom was an artist and therefore must have been sleeping around. Great Aunt Josephine was awful. Great Uncle Giorgi was really cool, though. Let's go find him."   
  
Mikey M and François followed her around the corridors of the Parliament building for over an hour. She wanted an escape from what was going on in the main chamber, so she tried to forget it was happening at all. But they couldn't keep finding more Renaldo and Grimaldi portraits forever.   
  
Francine came down the hall, walking very quickly. The vote must be over.  
  
"Mia, Michael, there you are," she said. Then she hesitated. Bad news. Mikey M had been expecting their petition to be refused. That was all part of the old plan. He was still disappointed though.  
  
Mia also interpreted Francine's silence the same way. She was no longer smiling and prattling about relatives now. She shrugged, in a very un-princess-like manner, and said, "Well, we tried."  
  
"The vote was 63 to 20," Francine said. "That's more in favor of your petition than we expected. There were a lot of abstentions, too."  
  
That was a minor victory. A very, very minor victory. Mia tried to smile like she was pleased with that part of the news, but she ended up just shrugging again. "Yeah. Well, I guess we should have our press conference."  
  
Jen and René were the most enthusiastic participants at the afternoon press conference. Mikey M was usually able to hide what he was really feeling from others, but today he felt like everyone there could sense his true mood. He didn't want to lose Mia again, but he knew he had to.  
  
"This morning's results were disappointing," Mia said, "but not completely unexpected. I wish it could have turned out better for us. But, well, we're not a piece of legislation, so just because we've been vetoed by Parliament doesn't mean we can just end everything. I mean, I love Michael, and he loves me, and we're going to stay together."  
  
This was not anything like what was supposed to happen according to their old plan. They were only going to make it more difficult for themselves when they finally did go their separate ways. But it was the truth, and for once Mikey M didn't mind that his personal life was being discussed candidly in front of an audience. He was always hiding. This time he'd let everyone in on the secret: He was in love with the wrong woman. She was in love with him, but that didn't make her any less wrong for him.  
  
Eventually Jen declared the end of the press conference, and Mikey M and Mia could disappear. He went to the studio, and Mia followed. The recording equipment was already being packed up, but his guitars were still out where he left them. He sat down and picked up his acoustic guitar. Mia sat on the piano bench next to him.  
  
"How long are you going to stay?" Mia asked quietly.  
  
"Around here? A week. I really have to get back to finish working on the album. You'll visit." He knew her days were always filled with public appearances and dinners. She had already cancelled her appointments for last weekend to be with him, so who knew when she would be able to make time in her busy schedule to come to London. But she had to.  
  
"A week?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I guess that's better than nothing, right?" She leaned over and kissed him. She was right. They had to live for the moment; enjoy the short time they had together; enjoy the week. She stood up and said, "I'll call ahead and tell everyone at the palace to get the guest quarters ready."   
  
"The palace? I was just going to stay with René."  
  
She grinned, and Mikey M knew it was hopeless to resist. She was a princess with a plan. "You said this morning that you'd stay in the Genovian royal palace if you weren't going to be arrested. You won't be arrested this week. You're not scared, are you?"  
  
This had to be the worst idea since, well, their engagement. "Your family hates me."  
  
"Only Dad and Grandmère, and that's just because they care too much about me. So say you'll come, and I'll call Ted and Francine."  
  
How could he say no to his princess? "OK, fine. But only if you show me the Genovian history museum."  
  
----  
  
(Note: I'm really, really, really, really sorry about how long it took for me to get around to writing this part. I didn't think it would take so long but, well, um… Thanks for patiently (and impatiently) waiting. The next part is being written now. Thanks for reading!) 


	21. Change of Plans, pt 2

Chapter 14 (cont.) – Change of Plans, pt 2  
  
"Wow, Mia, you were right. Your grandfather really was a great guy." Mikey M leaned down to get a closer look at the Croix de Guerre medal in the display case.   
  
"I told you so."   
  
Mia had been to the Genovian history museum enough times with her grandmother to already know everything there was to know about her grandfather's involvement with the French Resistance. During the second World War Mia's great-grandparents, Prince Gerard and Princess Maria, had to deal with Fascist Italy to the east, Vichy France to the west, and the advancing Nazi armies from the north. Genovia officially stayed out of the war in order to avoid invasion, but Mia's grandfather, Prince Christoff, was a young, handsome hero who risked his life countless times to liberate the countries surrounding Genovia from the Nazi powers.   
  
"I bet your grandfather would have a lot to say if he heard that Grandmère took credit for protecting Genovia with her tea party. He looks like he wouldn't take all her crap." Mikey M was now looking at a photograph of Prince Christoff and Charles de Gaulle. "You have his nose, you know."  
  
Mia looked over his shoulder to look at the picture more closely. "I'm nothing like him. He's noble and heroic and ... um... princely. And I'm just me. I haven't done anything important and heroic and all."  
  
"I didn't say that you were sabotaging Nazi supply lines. Look at the bridge of his nose and the shape of the nostrils."  
  
"But… Hey, you're kind of right. Why didn't Grandmère tell me that?"  
  
"She was too busy telling you her war stories."  
  
Mia began to laugh, but then she remembered where they were. In public. Other people were around. Someone would find out that they were laughing at her grandmother, and then Mia would be in trouble. It could already sound suspicious that Mikey M spoke so casually about her family when they had officially only met at Mia's birthday party and then at the dinner with the Italian prime minister.  
  
Mia checked her watch for the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. 5:42. Francine had made her promise that they would not turn up at the Genovian palace before six o'clock. Preparations had to be made. Of course the guest rooms were all clean and ready for visitors at a moment's notice, but people had to be prepared for her special guest. In this context 'people' meant 'the Renaldo family.' They would have to have a family meeting to discuss how to treat Michael during the next week.   
  
It wasn't too late to call the palace and say "Never mind." Making her boyfriend deal with her crazy family was probably a violation of the international human rights laws.   
  
Mikey M turned to look up at her. "I didn't know that the French would give some of these medals to foreigners." He smiled, and Mia knew that getting him to spend the next week at the palace was actually an excellent idea. It had taken weeks for their relationship to progress to being an actual relationship. Now his smiles meant something. They were for her, and not for the photographers or other witnesses in the rooms. He was happy because of her, she was happy because of him, and they wanted to spend more time together. Plus he seemed to like her dead grandfather, and he already was great 'old friends' with her cousin René, and Tante Jean Marie kept on telling Mia how good-looking her boyfriend was, and her other relatives could maybe like him, too. Maybe a week at the palace wouldn't be too awful for Michael.  
  
"We could leave in another ten minutes," Mia said.  
  
"But I haven't seen most of the museum yet." Oddly enough, he sounded sincere. Mia knew that Michael had been very interested in Genovia when they were dating back when she was in high school, but that was because he thought he'd become her prince consort some day. Now he had to know that there was no chance of his living in Genovia, much less marrying the Genovian princess, but he was still genuinely curious about Genovian history. Strange.  
  
François stood back at the main entrance with the museum security guard, so Mia and Mikey M were able to wander around the museum with the other tourists. The half dozen other visitors and all the museum staff knew who they were and were doing an admirable job of avoiding staring, but they kept their distance. Mikey M didn't care about what other people would think about his public admiration of Prince Christoff Renaldo. Mia would feel much better when they were out of public and safely hidden at the palace.  
  
Mikey M turned from the display case and said, "I'll come back later when you have to do something princess-y and you need me to stay out of the way. Let's walk to the palace."  
  
"Walk?" Mia looked back at François, who was still talking to the other security guard and was therefore unaware of her boyfriend's insanity.  
  
"I'm here to see your country, remember?" He brushed his hair out of his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, not thinking about how madly sexy he could look with his disheveled dark curls and enigmatic smirk. Take Mikey M out on the streets? It was a miracle that they were not being mobbed by his fans inside the museum. She couldn't let him outside in the middle of Genovia with only François for protection.  
  
"We'll go out tomorrow with more security," Mia said. She waved for François to come over to them so she could ask for the car to be brought around.  
  
"No one is going to assassinate you between here and your house. It's just down the road, and you have François and me here."  
  
"I'm not worried about me. No one cares about me when I'm out in public. It's you I'm worried about." She tried to keep the volume of her voice down, but Michael could be so frustrating and stubborn sometimes.  
  
At least he caught on that they should argue quietly. He put his arm around her waist and said into her ear, "I don't need you to worry about my safety, love. I can look after myself."  
  
He was not going to get out of this by using his extreme attractiveness against her. He must know how hard it was for Mia to think when he was so close to her. He was far too gorgeous. And she was not going to back down because he called her 'love'. Mia said as coolly as she could in the circumstances, "I always worry, you idiot. If anything happened to you—"  
  
"It would be my fault, not yours. But nothing is going to happen. I want to see your country, and it's pretty outside."  
  
"There will be reporters."  
  
"If they're bad, we have François. But we already posed for pictures at the press conference. That's the end of our story. Tragic separation." If he kept on smiling when talking about their nonexistent future, people may start thinking that he wasn't upset about it. She didn't understand how he could accept the impossibility of their situation so easily. She wanted to tear her hair out over everything, and he wanted to take a walk.  
  
"There's been a change of plans, remember?" she said. "No tragic separation."  
  
He leaned down and kissed her cheek lightly. "Not yet."  
  
François was waiting for them by the door and had no objections to Michael's walking idea. Mia would have thought that her security personnel would have a more balanced view of the risks involved in having her gorgeous, famous rockstar boyfriend walk down the street. But Mikey M was right. The mobs of reporters and photographers that Mia had expected outside the Genovian history museum weren't there. There were a handful present, but they were quickly satisfied with a few pictures and a few "No comment"s to all questions asked.   
  
After the reporters left them alone, the only people around were the normal Wednesday afternoon passer-bys. At least Mia supposed that this was what la rue Principale's average Wednesday evening traffic looked like. She didn't often get out of the palace during the day, and she certainly never walked down la rue Principale when she was going to some appointment or meeting. Princesses had chauffeurs.  
  
The Genovian history museum was located near a cluster of shops and restaurants near the palace. Mia had driven by the shops dozens of times every week, but this was the first time she actually looked at them. And she was looking only because Mikey M was.  
  
"Is that bookstore any good?" he asked. "I didn't pack much reading material."  
  
Mia considered herself to be an informed, intelligent young woman, but she really had no idea that there was a bookstore there. She had Francine or Ted to get her books when she thought of something she wanted to read. She should know her country better. What if some spouse of a foreign leader wanted to buy a new book?   
  
While Mia was still berating herself for her insularity in not knowing her country's bookstores, Mikey M turned around to François and said, "François, have you been to that bookstore?"  
  
The bodyguard was standing a few feet behind them, discreet enough not to be obviously listening to their conversation but still standing too close not to be able to have heard everything. François seemed just as surprised as Mia was that he had been directly asked a question by Mikey M. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "There's a decent fiction section, but the nonfiction isn't very extensive. They have hardly anything science related."  
  
François read science books for fun? Not only did Mia know nothing about the location of bookstores in her country, she also had absolutely no idea what sort of books her most trusted employees read. Some day the spouse of a foreign leader could ask her a question abut quantum physics, and Mia could turn around and ask François what he knew about it, thereby averting a potential major national embarrassment.  
  
Mikey M said, "I'll stop by here tomorrow, when you're being princess-y, Mia."  
  
He was using that word again: "princess-y". She should be fighting Nazis like her grandfather when he was her age, or she should be out on the streets learning more about her country with Michael, but instead she would drink tea and make polite conversation with the spouses of foreign leaders and let her father did the real work in running the country. Thanks to Mikey M she had the confidence and popularity to be able to decide what clothes to wear, but she still wasn't doing anything with her position. She was such a mediocre future monarch.  
  
"We're getting closer to the palace, Mia. If you look like that, they're going to throw me in the dungeons, no questions asked."   
  
Mikey M reached over and took her hand. He never used to like to hold hands when she was in high school. That qualified as a public display of affection, and he wanted to keep his feelings for her private. Now their feelings for each other were on the front page of newspapers, so he could hold her hand in public. She liked it.  
  
"It's been a busy day," she said. "First Parliament, then the press conference, and now my family."   
  
They were now walking down the drive to the palace. Mia wished they could walk more slowly. Maybe they could take a nice stroll through the gardens in the back before going inside and seeing how everyone was 'prepared' for Mikey M's stay.   
  
The front doors opened before they were even at the stairs. That could not be a good sign. It was an even worse sign then Francine came out looking very, very nervous. Once they walked into the foyer, Francine told them, "Princess Clarisse is waiting for you – both of you – in the Golden Salon."  
  
Mia let go of Mikey M's hand. "You don't have to see my grandmother, Michael. I'll talk to her myself."  
  
He said, "Grandmère said both of us, right, Francine? I'll go. I haven't talked to Grandmère in years. I'll be on my best behavior." He did not look as terrified for his life as he should be. He was a very brave man, or perhaps a very foolish one. He leaned over to Mia and asked in a lower voice, "Is she any less scary these days?"  
  
"No. She doesn't have a dog anymore, though."  
  
"Thank god. Then show the way."  
  
Princess Clarisse Renaldo sat in an antique armchair in the middle of the room. She raised her head slightly when Mia and Mikey M walked in, but otherwise did not move to greet them. They sat down on the loveseat in front of Grandmère. This was not a very good beginning.  
  
After an extended awkward silence, Grandmère said, "Francine informed us this afternoon that ..._ he_ was staying here for a week."  
  
This was not a very good beginning at all. Mikey M did not say anything about Grandmère's rudeness, so Mia decided to follow his lead and pretend that this was a normal, civil, friendly conversation. She said, "That's right. Michael is here as my guest. His lease at Mirabeau ended, and he wanted a chance to see Genovia before, umm, you know, his arraignment." It was hard to have a normal, civil, friendly conversation when the situation was so incredibly screwed up, but Mia was doing her best.  
  
Grandmère did not appreciate her efforts. She said, "He is here to cause trouble, and you are letting him stay here because you want to cause trouble, too. Your father already has enough to worry about. You seem to forget that you are supposed to be helping him by acting as the hostess here. Instead you are inviting the one person your father least wants to see."  
  
The room was silent again while Mia tried to think of what she could possibly say to that without making her grandmother even angrier. Michael was here to see Mia, not to annoy Mia's father or the rest of the family. Mia and Michael were in love and they should be allowed to stay with each other for as long as they wanted, or at least for the next week. Mia knew that her grandmother wouldn't want to hear anything like that, though.  
  
Luckily Michael was able to respond more directly. "I will stay out of Prince Phillipe's way," he said. "I'll keep away from everyone in the family, if that's what you want, Mrs. Renaldo."  
  
"You will keep away from the family quarters. You will not be joining us in the family meals—"  
  
Mia had to interrupt there. "Wait, Grandmère, that's my business, isn't it?" She was still the hostess of the palace, and Grandmère was still too old to be taking on so many responsibilities on herself. What would her doctors think?  
  
"You are not handling this situation correctly so I am stepping in, with the approval of your father and the rest of the family. It is bad enough that that man is staying here when he's a wanted criminal. I will not question what game you were playing with that petition—"  
  
"It was personal," Mia said quickly. When she wrote the petition it was a game, but it had definitely changed into something very different.  
  
Grandmère gave Mia one of her most regal glares and said, "The romantic entanglements of the heir to the throne of Genovia are never strictly personal. You are going to become the Crown Princess. Your children will rule the country. You let yourself lose sight of your duty, and now is the time for you to be stepping back into your rightful place, but instead you drag him along and bring him here. He is not a respectable guest."  
  
"I am not ashamed of Michael. He is here as my guest and as my boyfriend. I just told everyone at a press conference that I love him, and I'll tell you, too."   
  
"That is not the issue, Amelia."  
  
"He happens to still be in the room," Mikey M said coolly. Mia could tell from his voice that he was very, very annoyed. It was the tone of voice he had used when she had first seen him again back in May. He said, "It's just one week, Mrs. Renaldo, then you never have to see me again. I don't want to see you or Phillipe, and I'm going to do everything I can to avoid you. I'm here to see Mia."  
  
Grandmère nodded and said, "Then we should have no problems. You avoid us and then you leave forever."  
  
"I don't see why Michael can't even come down to breakfast with the family," Mia said. "He's my boyfriend."  
  
"It's OK, Mia," he said. "I don't mind." She could tell from his voice that he did mind very much, and Grandmère could probably tell, too. Grandmère noticed everything. So Grandmère was pleased that she had gotten him to agree to conditions he disliked, and Mia was annoyed that he had allowed Grandmère to win.   
  
"You deserve to be treated better," Mia said, but she knew the issue was settled. Mikey M took her hand and helped her stand up. They were dismissed.  
  
Out in the halls, Mia said yet again, "You deserve to be treated better."  
  
"You have to pick your battles. Grandmère wasn't going to change her mind, and I didn't want to spend all night arguing with her just so we could all eat dinner together."  
  
"I know you don't care. You hate my family so you never wanted to have to see them anyway. But I do care about them, and I think they'd all really like you. You were a big hit when the Italians were here. If you talked to my aunts and uncles and cousins—"  
  
"Mia, I'm not here to get to know the Renaldo family. It doesn't matter whether they like me. The petition was rejected, so I'm no longer your fiancé. I'm not here to help you build self-esteem or impress your relatives or improve your image or anything else. I'm here because you're here. I want to spend time with you."   
  
It was scary how cold and distant he could sound even when talking about wanting to be with Mia. If he was not going to be able to stay away from Grandmère himself, Mia was going to do everything she could do to keep them apart. He had been very open and friendly earlier today, but a few minutes with Grandmère were enough to make him retreat into his too-cool rockstar mode.   
  
"I'm going to be busy this week," Mia said.  
  
"If you want me to go back to London, just say the words."   
  
Mia knew that he really would leave at that moment if she asked. He'd probably come back when he was in a better mood, but he was seriously not happy with the Renaldo family right now.  
  
Mia quickly said, "No! I mean, sorry. It's just, oh, forget it. You're right. You're not here for long and I shouldn't make you waste your time with my boring relatives. Your time is valuable, too. I'm being selfish."  
  
"I'm being selfish, too. So where's my guest wing?" He finally smiled, and Mia knew that things would be OK between them again. She now needed to avoid her father.   
  
At that moment she noticed her father walking down the hallway towards them. Mia expected him to turn around and go the opposite direction when he saw that Michael was there, but he continued in his path. He just chose to pretend that Mikey M was not there at all. Prince Phillipe said to Mia, "Come into my office. We have something to discuss. Alone."  
  
Francine was still near by, waiting to see that nothing wrong happened during their talk with Grandmère, and now she was conveniently around to show Mikey M the way to "his" guest wing. So Mia had to follow her father and hear what he had to say about their houseguest.   
  
The first thing she said when she walked into Prince Phillipe's office was, "You won't have to see Michael at all."  
  
Her father sat down at his desk and looked very serious, like this was a political matter to be discussed rather than a father-daughter talk about her unsuitable boyfriend. "I don't plan on seeing him. I have sent word that he is not to be permitted to see anything about our security here. He does not have a laptop, does he? He is not allowed to use our computer system. I would like him to stay out of the administrative parts of the palace completely. No more walks around Parliament. I don't want him to see more of our government's operations than he has already seen."  
  
"Dad, he's not a foreign spy. But I'm sure he doesn't want to see the offices or send a fax or anything. I'll tell him, though. Grandmère has already said that he's not invited to our family meals, so I won't be around, either."  
  
"You remember that the French ambassador is visiting tomorrow, right? So you will be at dinner."  
  
"Of course. Michael won't come, if that's what you want."  
  
"It is."  
  
At least it was a brief, unpleasant meeting. Mia was sure that Mikey M would not like to know about all these extra restrictions on where he could go in the palace. She took a few shortcuts to get to the guest quarters and found him looking over his three guitar cases. His other luggage for the week was in a suitcase by the door, but he only cared about the guitars.  
  
"One for you, one for me, and one for Grandmère?" Mia asked.  
  
"Sorry, love, but not even you get to touch my guitars," he said. She could get used to him calling her 'love'. He never used to call her that when they were dating back in high school – Michael Moscovitz would never use cutesy terms of endearment – but it sounded perfectly natural now. He unlocked one of the cases and carefully picked up his acoustic guitar.   
  
"So is it all in one piece?" Mia asked.  
  
"I'd have anyone fired who so much as looked at my guitars wrong." He still looked it over for signs of hard knocks on the short drive from Mirabeau to the Genovian palace. He strummed the strings and put the instrument back in its case. Then time to inspect guitar number two.  
  
"You have to trust other people to do their jobs," Mia said.  
  
"Not when it affects my guitars. I look out for myself." Guitar number two was an electric guitar, so he did not actually set it up to play, but he still had to look at the connectors and the strings for signs of wear or abuse.  
  
"I look after you, too. So I can tell you that when you're here no one will touch your guitars, and I can tell you that clean towels will appear in the bathroom every morning. It's OK to let other people do things for you."  
  
"Maybe." He put the guitar down and went for guitar number three. "What did your father have to say? More people I can't talk to?"   
  
"Don't talk to security people or the government people. Dad still thinks you're going to turn into a major spy or something."  
  
"So who am I allowed to talk to in the palace?" He looked more concerned about his bass guitar than these additional restrictions. Of course he was an expert at hiding his real feelings, so his indifference could all be an act, but Mia hoped that he was sincere. At least she hoped he would follow all her family's stupid rules and let everyone be happy.   
  
"Well, you can still talk to me," she said.  
  
"Good. But you're a member of the Renaldo family, so shouldn't I be staying away from you, too? I should stick to my class of people in the kitchens and stables. Do you have stables?"  
  
Mia did her best not to smile. Maybe he was really, really good at hiding his anger, because he certainly seemed to be finding the situation amusing. "Sorry, that's classified information. Dad wouldn't want me to tell you."   
  
"In that case, I'll just have to stay here in my guest wing and not say a word to anyone when you're off doing your princess-y things. I'll read lots of books."   
  
Later that night, after they had had dinner served in his rooms and after he had serenaded her with all the 80s power ballads he knew and after Mia had sneaked in her nightgown and clothes for tomorrow from her room, she saw him looking through a Genovia guidebook with a bit too much interest. There was no way he was going to stay in the guest wing out of everyone's way. Michael was going to get them into trouble somehow. But Mia didn't mind. It could be fun.  
  
---  
  
(Author's note: Sorry for not existing these last 2 months, but life is less hectic (err, differently hectic) and I should be able to post more regularly. I hope. More will happen in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! ) 


	22. Genovia's Guest

Chapter 15 – Genovia's Guest  
  
The Genovian people may not accept Mikey M as Mia's prince consort, but they loved to read about him. The Genovian press was ready to give the public what they wanted: Daily news about what Mikey M was doing while he was staying in Genovia.  
  
_Thursday, Day 1 of his visit._   
  
From the lead story on the front page: "The Genovian Parliament rejected Princess Amelia's petition to marry the American musician Mikey M by an overwhelming majority, 20 to 63 with 17 abstentions. Princess Amelia was absent at the final vote, but at a press conference later in the afternoon she acknowledged and accepted the decision of Parliament.   
  
"Sources within the palace report the mood of the Renaldo family was 'jubilant' at the news that the princess's engagement had been ended. A spokesman for the family said, 'We are very, very pleased with the decision from Parliament. Princess Amelia is still young, and we hope she will learn from this experience and show better judgment in the future.'   
  
"Mikey M has already given up his lease on an estate outside of Genovia and is in the process of moving back to London. It has already been reported in this paper that the popular musician is scheduled to be arraigned in two weeks on unknown charges. He is expected to leave the country before his trial begins. Princess Amelia's engagement to him has been widely dismissed as an act of youthful rebellion.  
  
"Princess Amelia will resume her duties as the official hostess of the Renaldo family at the Palace. Visiting this week is a rapid succession of important foreign leaders, including ... "  
  
From the business section: "Tourism has risen to an all-time high this summer, thanks to the strong world economy and to the very successful advertising campaign from the official Genovian tourist board aimed at young people. It has been suggested that Princess Amelia's romance with the lead singer of the popular alternative rock band Piaget's Children may have brought in some tourists hoping to see the young couple, but that is mere speculation. ..."  
  
_Friday, Day 2. _  
  
The first item on the gossip column on the second page: "The American musician Mikey M was seen last night at the Royale Casino on the Genovian waterfront, with his old friend Prince René. Both men were surrounded by friends, beautiful women, bodyguards, and curious tourists. The charming prince won over 100,000 euros at the gambling tables, and the enigmatic rock star lost 200 euros. Onlookers reported that Mikey M 'looked happy' and 'laughed a lot at Ren', in spite of his casino losses and his recent broken engagement with Princess Amelia. When asked about Princess Amelia, Mikey M cryptically said, 'She's busy tonight.' His continued presence in Genovia goes against the wishes of the Renaldo family, and presumably is allowed because of his long-established, close friendship with Prince René."  
  
From a letter to the editor: "It is disgraceful to see that Princess Amelia's ridiculous marriage petition was not rejected by a larger majority in the Genovian Parliament. Prince Phillipe and Dowager Princess Clarisse publicly disapproved of the American, and that should have been sufficient grounds for sending him away at once. ..."  
  
_Saturday, Day 3. _  
  
A small paragraph on the bottom of the front page: "Princess Amelia's ex-boyfriend, Mikey M, was seen yesterday walking around Genovia's harbor area. He arrived in the area soon after 9:00 AM, and visited many of the shops and museums. He was alone, without his friend Prince René or even a bodyguard. When asked why he was still in Genovia, he said simply, 'Because I like it here.' The Renaldo family had no comment about his presence in the country."  
  
From an editorial: "Princess Amelia is not the first princess to have loved an unacceptable man, and she is not the first to give him up when reminded of her duty to her country. She has shown an eager readiness to love that can be excused and even admired in a young woman, and she has shown her true dedication and loyalty to Genovia by sending away one of the world's most eligible bachelors."  
  
_Sunday, Day 4. _  
  
First item in the gossip column: "Princess Amelia and her former fiancé, American musician Mikey M, dined together last night at Perotin's restaurant on la rue Principale. Other diners reported that they looked very 'cozy'. It is rumored that Mikey M is a frequent visitor to the palace to see Princess Amelia, even after the breakup of their engagement."  
  
From a letter to the editor: "As the owner of the Café Machaut, I must defend the reputation of one of my most valued customers against the condescending attitude of this paper and much of the rest of Genovia's media. Mikey M is a very courteous, noble man, and he would have made an excellent prince consort had the Genovian Parliament allowed him to marry Princess Amelia.   
  
"Anyone who thinks otherwise should talk to him. He comes into my café every afternoon, and he is polite to everyone who recognizes him. Yesterday he spent over an hour talking about favorite music groups with some teenagers. He is a very nice man, and he is especially fond of our Choux Chantilly.   
  
"We at the Café Machaut invite the curious to see our loyal customer, and to try our pastries, reasonably priced and served in a comfortable environment that even Genovia's hottest celebrities enjoy."  
  
_Monday, Day 5._  
  
The lead story on the front page: "The American musician Mikey M has not left Genovia as he allowed the world to believe. It has been confirmed by Princess Amelia herself, during the opening of a new children's wing at Genovia's hospital (see article on page 3 for more on the hospital), that Mikey M is staying at the Genovian palace as her personal guest. Anonymous sources at the palace say that Mikey M is forbidden from leaving his rooms in the guest wing unless accompanied by Princess Amelia or a member of her security team.  
  
"Mikey M's appearances around Genovia continue. Lines formed early to get into Café Machaut in time for Mikey M's routine appearance yesterday afternoon. Tickets for tomorrow's show at the new Kassia club have been sold out because of Mikey M's intention of being present. ..."  
  
A letter to the Editor: "I am alarmed by the perverse fascination the youth of Genovia have with Mikey M. It is the duty of the Renaldo family to release the information about whatever crime he committed that they are covering up, so we can show our children that he is not the admirable person they think he is. Besides, isn't everyone dying to know what he did to get banned from entering the country?"  
  
_Tuesday, Day 6. _  
  
From the editorial page: "Princess Amelia has to make up her mind. If she wants to keep being seen as the girlfriend of Mikey M, she has to be able to tell the Genovian public who he is beyond the alias he goes by. Otherwise we should all accept the decision of the Genovian Parliament and send the young man away before he breaks the hearts of our princess and of everyone in Genovia who has met him. His popularity continues to grow, especially among the young people. We think we may even come to like him."  
  
-----  
  
Mikey M's visit in Genovia had not been anything like he had expected. In six days, Mikey M had had breakfast with Mia only once, lunch once, and dinner twice. Mia had consulted her schedule and informed him that if he had wanted to have tea with her, he should have made reservations at least two months in advance. Who knew princesses were in such high demand?  
  
He did his best to be the perfect invisible house guest. He had been given the official tour of the castle by an official castle tour guide, but no one would even tell him what floor or wing Mia's office was located. He had said "Good morning" once to one of Mia's great-aunts when he had passed her in the corridors, but he saw nothing of Mia's other relatives around the palace. If they did not read the newspapers, the ambassadors, diplomats, and other important guests at the palace would never know he was there. They would also not know that Mia went straight to find Michael as soon as the dessert course was cleared from the dining room table.   
  
His girlfriend didn't have much free time for him, but he didn't mind. She had her work to do. He could not do much of his own work without a full recording studio and his band mates around, so every day Mikey M left the palace early and spent the day out. If Mia had time for him, she could call. But he didn't mind that Mia's calls usually didn't come until late, because he actually liked wandering around Genovia. And Genovians seemed to like him, too. He hadn't planned on that at all.  
  
It was his last full day in Genovia. With his arraignment scheduled for the following week, this could be the last night he ever spent in Genovia. Prince Phillipe was looking pretty healthy these days, so it could be years before he died. It would take a serious head injury or maybe a lobotomy to change his personality enough to let him even consider dropping the charges against Mikey M.   
  
So this was it. Michael was not going to end his relationship with Mia, at least not yet, but this was the end of his relationship with Genovia. And that made him sad.  
  
Mia was scheduled to have dinner with the Portuguese finance minister and his family, but she was going to leave dinner early since it was Michael's last evening to be with her. Earlier that morning while they were still in bed, she had said, "I had thought we'd spend your last night here together, just the two of us. We'd go out on my family's yacht and have dessert and drink champagne in the moonlight. But if you'd rather go clubbing..." She smiled, waiting for him to contradict her. Mikey M did not do such ordinary things as go out to clubs, and she knew that.  
  
"We're not going clubbing. We are going to be witnessing an important event in the Genovian local music scene."   
  
The nightclub Kassia was opening that evening with a line-up of live local artists. In a tiny country of only 50,000 inhabitants, there were not many places for kids to have their bands perform. Kassia would help nurture what local talent there was, and it would bring in the smaller performers coming through the area.   
  
Whenever Mikey M got tired of dealing with all his visitors at the Café Machaut, he helped out at Kassia. He knew night clubs, sound systems, drum sets, microphones, lighting, and everything else bands need to know. He had seen a lot of little clubs when Piaget's Children was starting out. This was his sort of place.   
  
He liked the people at Kassia, and he wanted their club to be a success. Their opening night certainly would be. Not only would the world famous musician Mikey M be there, but he'd be accompanied by his lovely girlfriend, Princess Amelia, who everyone would see is a really cool, approachable person whom everyone should love and give high approval ratings for.  
  
Mia knew that Kassia was important to Michael. She did not actively encourage him to get involved, but he could tell that she was happy he genuinely cared about something in Genovia. She asked, "Do you want me to make a speech tonight? I could."  
  
"That's OK. I might, though."  
  
"No fair. It's a major cultural event in my country. I should be the one who says something."  
  
"Maybe if you took some breaks in your intense tea-drinking schedule, they'd let you on stage."   
  
"You only wish you could drink tea with me," she teased. She had to get up and go to some early appointment, and later that morning Mikey M had gotten out of bed and left the palace early to enjoy his last day of vacation in Genovia.  
  
The tourists from the cruise ships usually stayed close to the harbor area and the beaches. The most expensive restaurants and high-end shops were located in that part of the town, and most Genovians avoided it whenever possible. There were too many tourists, the prices were too high, it felt too much like all the other upscale Mediterranean resort towns. The real Genovia began further down la rue Principale, going towards the palace.   
  
Café Machaut was located on one of the side streets from la rue Principale. When Mikey M had discovered it last Friday, the café had been very peaceful and private. There were many cafés around Genovia, and this one was easy to overlook before it had become known as Mikey M's preferred place to escape with a novel and a pastry in the late afternoon. He had been tempted to stop coming to the café after Eduardo Machaut invited everyone who read the Genovian newspaper to come talk to Mikey M and buy the caf's pastries, but he did love their Choux Chantilly.  
  
The doors and all the windows were open to let the sea breeze into the café, so anyone passing by could look in and see the local celebrity at a table in the corner in the front that he already considered his own. It was the only empty table when Mikey M walked in.   
  
The owner nearly leaped up from his seat behind the counter so he could lead his important guest to his table. "Monsieur Mikey M, welcome. You look well. We will give you your coffee and your Choux Chantilly, right? My niece is here. You must speak with her. She is a very big fan of yours. She says she's in love with your pianist."  
  
He still brought a book along with him when he came to the café, but he rarely read anymore. He mainly listened. Mina Machaut had to be assured that Ansel, Piaget Children's keyboardist, was very unlikely to marry her, even though he was not married at present. A thirteen-year-old girl with a crush required lots of persuading to see reason.   
  
Next Mikey M talked with a trio of young hipsters around his age who were trying to get tickets to the show at Kassia that evening. He made a few calls, then they talked about their favorite old punk bands. Mikey M sent them away with a long list of bands they should listen to.   
  
He had a long political debate with an older gentleman who felt strongly about Genovia's fishing rights. Mikey M assumed that he was being tested for how much he cared about Genovia; there could be no other reason why a random person would wait to be able to speak to him and then just talk about local border disputes.  
  
Eventually he had to return to the palace to get ready for his evening out. He had a simple dinner sent to his suite in the guest wing. At least he requested a "simple" meal - the kitchen staff had gotten to like him over the last few days, so his simplest requests resulted in bigger and more elaborate feasts. Then he got dressed for the night and waited for his princess to sneak out of her formal dinner and join him.  
  
"My family sends their love," Mia lied when she came into his rooms. She was still annoyed at her family's treatment of her boyfriend, but it didn't bother Mikey M. Why waste the time and energy worrying about lost causes?  
  
"I'm sure they will all miss me terribly once I'm gone. Now get out of those clothes so we can go clubbing, your highness."   
  
He kissed her and handed her a sleek silver dress he had chosen for her. Mia's wardrobe was still not to be relied upon, even with Sebastiano's recent improvements, but there were plenty fashion designers who would love to see Mikey M's princess wearing something sexy of their design.  
  
Mia held the dress up in front of her and asked, "Where's the rest of it?" It was shorter than the dresses she normally wore, but she had the legs to carry it off. It was more risqué than what she would wear to tea with her grandmother, but for a night out at a nightclub with her boyfriend, it was perfect.  
  
"They sent matching shoes and a handbag."  
  
"But I couldn't wear-- I mean, people will talk."  
  
"They'll all be jealous of me. You're beautiful, love. Wear the dress. Now change."   
  
He would have pointed out that the silver of the dress brought out the color of her eyes, but there were better methods to get his way than to rely on logic or flattery. He took the dress out of Mia's hands and tossed it onto the bed. Then he kissed her, just a light kiss on the lips to prevent her from making whatever comeback she would have made. She needed to get used to hearing that she was beautiful. Then he kissed her again, this time giving her time to respond and kiss him back. He pulled her closer to him as he deepened the kiss and let the raw passion that was always there between them send their thoughts miles away from dresses and nightclubs and trials. God, being in love with her made life very difficult but also very fun.  
  
She abruptly stopped kissing him and stepped back out of his embrace. Her face was flushed, but she sounded completely composed when she said, "We have to get ready for tonight."  
  
She picked up the dress and went into the bathroom to change. Michael already knew every inch and curve of her body, dressed and undressed, but he did not protest against the show of modesty. Besides, he did not need the distraction of a naked girlfriend in front of him, when he should be straightening his clothes and hair so he could be ready to make a public appearance at an important Genovian cultural event.  
  
He was dressed very simply in a black silk button-down shirt and black trousers. He knew he would get a lot of attention for being who he was and for coming with Mia, but he was not going to take the focus away from the music. He was going to literally blend in with the shadows as well as he could.  
  
"Where are those shoes you promised me?"   
  
Mia came out of the bathroom barefoot and beautiful. She had put on some light make-up and had made some attempt to brush her short hair, but she still looked thoroughly kissed and happy. He was right about the dress. She did have the legs for it, and it did bring out the color of her eyes. And she did look very sexy in it.   
  
He concentrated on keeping his hands to himself and pointed to the box that still had the shoes and handbag by the bed. She was always pretty, but he liked to be reminded just how pretty she was, even if no one else seemed to notice. Tonight they'd notice.  
  
Getting Mia to agree to go to Kassia that evening had been much easier than convincing Lars to let her go. He was back to being the coordinator of Mia's personal security, but he was more wary of Mikey M now. Lars did not like being fired from his job, even if it had all been straightened out within a few weeks. In addition to François, they were accompanied by two other bodyguards from the palace security team. Ted and Francine also joined them. Ted wanted to see the show, and Francine wanted to be certain that everyone behaved.  
  
Kassia was hidden back in the industrial part of Genovia. The club was on the first floor of a three-story warehouse by the harbor, with a dock and a loading area that looked in need of some repair. The club owners had done little to spruce up the exterior of the building. The top two floors were completely dark and unused. The only indications that the warehouse contained the new club was a small neon sign the front door flashing "Kassia", and the huge crowd of young people waiting to get in.   
  
Mikey M and Princess Amelia had called ahead, so their driver had no problem getting through the crowds and letting them out at the front door. The Genovian press were waiting for them. The people outside the club stared, whispered, then cheered for the happy couple. Mikey M was getting used to the cautious approval of the Genovian public to him. They did not trust him, but they seemed to like him well enough anyway.  
  
The interior of the club was almost as plain as its exterior. It was a large open space with a stage set up in one corner and a bar in the back. Plain tables and chairs were set up haphazardly around the floor. The overhead lights were turned off, though a few exposed light bulbs hung around to give enough light to exaggerate shadows around the room. A few lamps with lampshades were set up in strategic locations. It was an open, airy space with, as Mikey M had tested for himself, surprisingly good acoustics made even better with the elaborate sound system they had all set up. There were many windows open to let in a breeze from the harbor and to make up for the sparse interior by letting you see out onto the sea. It was simple, but he liked it that way.  
  
If Michael was going to stay in Genovia, he would rent the second floor of the building and convert it into a recording studio for Piaget's Children. They would have to do a lot of work to make the building more sound resistant so they would not pick up noise from downstairs. He'd walk down from the palace. His band mates would have estates in France or Italy and drive into Genovia for the day. At the end of the day, the guys could all go downstairs, have a few drinks, maybe play a set every now and then as unannounced concerts to get some instant reactions.  
  
It could never happen. Michael would not be able to return to Genovia until Prince Phillipe died. Even then, he would not be living up at the palace. That part of his life would be closed forever. Genovia was lost to him. But that didn't mean he couldn't every now and then make plans for how things could have been.  
  
Mikey M's group was led to a table close to the stage and close to an emergency exit, as specified by Lars. Mia's security chief had gone to the club earlier that day and probably had moved the table there himself for them. One bodyguard was left by the main entrance, one stood by the emergency exit by their table, and François stood directly behind the table to be able to see everyone around them. They had their security configuration set-up, so Mikey M could concentrate on seeing that his princess had fun.  
  
A waitress appeared as soon as they sat down and took their drinks order. Mikey M already knew her from his frequent visits to the club, and she already knew which type of red wine he wanted when he asked for wine.  
  
"She likes you," Mia observed. "Everyone here does. How did you manage to seduce my country in a week?"  
  
"Just like how I seduced you, love. I was a jerk, but they thought I was kind of cute." He waved to the bartender and nodded at a few other people around the club. He even recognized some people he had spoken with at the Café Machaut.  
  
"I spent years trying to get everyone to like me," Mia said. She looked uncomfortable there, in a place she had never seen, in a dress she had never worn before, surrounded by people who knew more about her life than she did. Mikey M had taken her out to many parties in the last month, but they had always been with his friends. This was something different – they were in her country, so these should be her friends, but they weren't.  
  
"They'd all love you if they met you."  
  
"Or they'd love me if I were a gorgeous, cool rock star and recorded some really great albums."  
  
"You're their princess. They already want to love you. And one day they all will."  
  
Michael could tell that Mia did not believe him, but he did not have time to argue more about it. The club owner, his new friend Carlos, was coming over to them.  
  
"Nice crowd, eh, Mikey?" he said with a grin. The place was already filled with people, and there were still the crowds outside hoping to be allowed inside.  
  
"Not bad. I suppose you're here because you want me to introduce you to everyone. Carlos, this is my princess, Mia, and her cousin Francine and her minion Ted" -- there were a few protests about Ted's title, but Mikey M continued -- "and her bodyguards François and Henri. Carlos owns this place, and he's making tons of money off us being here."  
  
"They all know we're going to get you on stage and playing for us before the night is over," Carlos joked. He had been hinting that he wanted Mikey M to play during the last few days, but Mikey M would not agree. He was not going to overshadow the young local performers there, and he wasn't going to try to play without his real band.   
  
"You couldn't afford me," Mikey M said.  
  
"Who said anything about paying you? I bet if Princess Amelia just said the words..." He winked at Mia, and she raised her eyebrows in unspoken agreement. Yes, if she asked, he would play. He'd do anything for her, and everyone knew it.  
  
"Don't you have a show to start?" Mikey M asked. "You can't be waiting for more people to show up."  
  
"Yes, yes, the show. You'll introduce the bands, won't you, Mikey? You've met everyone."  
  
Mikey M had done much more than simply meet the musicians who were playing in the show. He had sat in on many rehearsals and gave pointers and advice to anyone willing to ask. They looked up to him, and they would feel honored to be given personal introductions from him, and Carlos knew it. Besides, Mikey M liked appearing in front of audiences. That was all part of being a successful performer. The music was still what mattered the most to him, but he knew enough about showmanship to be able to keep a crowd interested in what was on stage.  
  
"OK, fine, but I'm not spending all night backstage helping move out equipment. I have a hot date here."  
  
He leaned over and kissed Mia to emphasize that point. Then he kissed her again because she really did look sweet and lovely. Then she kissed him, because she was not going to let him be in control of when they would kiss. Ted eventually tapped Michael on the shoulder and said, "You might want to go on stage. Carlos is waiting."  
  
Michael spent the night with the Genovia he never dreamed of existing: _his_ Genovia, filled with rock, cool people, and Mia. The young people in Genovia already loved him. The older generation was more cautious, but even the newspaper was becoming less biased against him. Perhaps, maybe, possibly, he could some day be accepted as Mia's spouse...  
  
No, the idea was still impossible. So long as he did not have a real name, the Genovian public would not recognize him as a suitable potential consort for their princess. If he let them know who he really was, he would lose the respect he had gained as Mikey M. And the Renaldo family would still hate him, no matter what name he went by.  
  
But for tonight, he was in Genovia, with good music, good friends, and his adorable girlfriend, and he would have fun. After much persuading, he had gotten Mia to dance with him out on the floor with everyone else. He loved to dance with her, even though she was not a very good dancer. Dancing was part of his job description, so he could make up for her clumsiness. She never seemed self-conscious when she was out with him. She didn't care about all the people around her. She was just a pretty young woman moving to the beat.  
  
God, he loved her. He loved her when he was in high school, he loved her when he was in college, he loved her when he was hiding in Florida, he loved her when he was a struggling musician in LA. He had not always been aware of it, but he had loved her for his entire adult life, and he loved her even more now. He would never get over her, and he didn't mind. There were worse fates in the world than being in love with a beautiful, funny, slightly neurotic princess.  
  
Mia did not need him in her life, but he hoped that she would miss him when he was not there. He would see her with other men, and it would be painful, but it would be even more painful never to see her again.  
  
"You should be happy," Mia shouted over the music. He put his arms around her and pulled her closer to him so he could kiss her. Everyone around them was still dancing, but Mikey M did not try to move out of the dancing crowd.  
  
"I am happy," he said.  
  
"Liar. The top of your ears are red." She could smile at that old memory from when she was in high school. It had not been a happy time in their lives, but Michael knew that she was so happy now, with him, that she could even think about their past without letting it ruin her mood.  
  
He would point out that his hair was covering the top of his ears and that the lighting was too low for her to see his ears very well, but instead he kissed her again. Tomorrow night he would be back in England, so he needed to kiss her as often as possible now.  
  
"I am very happy to be with you now, but I am unhappy about leaving tomorrow."  
  
"I'll come visit you."  
  
"Yes, we'll definitely see each other again soon."  
  
God, he loved her.  
  
----  
  
How soon was "soon"? When two people lived in different countries, and when one of the two could not go to the other's country without being arrested and his entire life being torn to shreds, "soon" meant more than a week.   
  
Michael had returned to his work in London. Mia had called him every night, and no matter how late it was, he was still at the recording studio. The band had finished recording the material for their next album two days ago, but Mikey M was still there making final adjustments. She could not complain that he was so involved in his work. She knew he loved it. She loved his music, too.   
  
What did bother her was that he would never say what he would do next. He wanted the album to get finished as soon as possible, but nothing seemed to be scheduled after that. No concerts, no videos to record, no new album he wanted to start work on. She knew that he had something planned, and she knew it would be cool, whatever it was, but he was determined to keep it a secret.  
  
Whatever it was, it certainly did not involve another trip to Genovia. Today was Mikey M's arraignment, but Mia refused to go near the courthouse for the actual hearing. She'd probably do something immature and melodramatic like burst out crying. After this morning, it would be official: her boyfriend could not enter Genovia ever again.   
  
When she was the Crown Princess she would pardon him, but that could be decades in the future. Mia could not wait that long to see him wandering around the guest wing at the palace, or walking down la rue Principale pretending not to notice all the tourists staring at him, or dancing at Kassia.   
  
She missed him already. So did the rest of Genovia. The Genovian gossip pages now always reported whenever Mikey M was seen around London. Letters to the editor continued, now referring to him as "Princess Amelia's boyfriend". The Renaldo family had no further comment to make on him, especially as the arraignment approached.   
  
Mia would go to London this weekend. She would only spend a day or two there, just long enough to see Michael again and to find out what great thing he had planned now that the album had been recorded. She should tell Francine and Ted now to adjust her schedule so--  
  
Her plans were interrupted by her phone's ring.   
  
"Mia, you have to get to the courthouse," Francine said. She sounded panicked. That was a very, very bad sign. Francine never panicked.   
  
"It's Michael's arraignment, isn't it? Is Dad there? They didn't open the records, did they? They can't!"   
  
Mia could think of a million things that could have gone wrong. Everyone had said that the actual hearing was only a formality that she would not need to attend, but now tragedy had struck. She was a terrible girlfriend. She should have been there.  
  
"They haven't opened the records yet," Francine said.  
  
"Yet? But Dad said that if Michael didn't come--"  
  
"Michael is here."  
  
---   
(Author's note: Ooh, look at that! The plot has moved forward! There's only a few more chapters of this story left. Thanks for reading! And thanks for all your reviews.) 


	23. Strategic Revelations

(Author's Note: "The Princess Present" officially makes my story not consistent with Meg Cabot's storyline. I said earlier that Michael had never visited Genovia when Mia was in high school. Oops. At least my story is still OK with books 1 through 6.)

Chapter 16 – Strategic Revelations

During the week that Mikey M had spent in Genovia with Mia, no one had said a word about J. T. Richter and the _Los Angeles Times_. His manager and his band mates only talked about the sound quality of the tracks they had recorded at Mirabeau and about what would have to be re-recorded in their studio in London. No one mentioned that an especially persistent reporter had not left the entrance to the studio for days.

Jen knew that this was not an ordinary tabloid hack with a pet theory about the 'truth' about Mikey M's identity. So many articles of lies had been published about him that Jen did not even bother to contradict them. This time the reporter came from a respected American paper. J. T. Richter was not a gossip columnist or a music critic. He usually wrote about national politics. He was a good, respectable journalist, and he said that he knew who Mikey M really was.

Jen did what she was told to do in cases like this: She blew him off. Piaget's Children will neither confirm nor deny any allegations about Mikey M's past. When J. T. Richter did not leave the studio entrance, Jen told her assistant Kristy to deal with him. Kristy told him to go away. He didn't. He said he'd wait to see "Michael" himself. He had said the name with particular emphasis.

No one told Mikey M any of this until he was back in London, back at work, and slamming the door to the studio so his old high school acquaintance, Josh Richter, couldn't follow him in and talk to him.

"What the hell!" Mikey M put down his guitar and took off his sunglasses. This was not how he had expected to begin his first full day back at work. Josh Richter had recognized him in the lobby. No doubt about it.

Jen came out of her office as soon as she had heard the door slam. "Mikey, you're back. Did that reporter out there give you a hard time? We're trying to get security to keep him out, but the lobby is technically open to the public."

Josh Richter was a reporter. He had uncovered Mikey M's true identity. Michael could guess what would happen next. Richter was going to publish a huge exposé about how much of a nerd Michael Moscovitz had been back in high school. All the talk about Mia's 18th birthday would begin again. The world would know that Mikey M was really a pathetic geek who had never fully gotten over his ex-girlfriend.

At least the band and the rest of his entourage did not know the pitiful truth about him yet. They were watching him now with both awe and trepidation. Mikey M had never reacted so strongly to newspaper gossip.

He was not ready to give up being Mikey M. He was no longer Michael Moscovitz, so he didn't see what right a jerk like Josh Richter had to change all of that. Princess Amelia of Genovia was dating the popular musician Mikey M, not her horrible ex-boyfriend Michael Moscovitz. He did not want to give her up because of Josh Richter, of all people. Why Josh Richter? Why now?

Felix put down the papers he had been looking over and stood up. "Hey, Mikey M, can we talk for a sec?"

Michael had forgotten about Felix. Felix used to be his sole link to his past life. Now he had Mia, too. And Josh Richter.

He led Felix out of the room with the others and into his office. Each member of the band had his own room in the studio to escape to, but Mikey M's really was an office. He may have hired other people to handle his practical affairs, but he had copies of all the major paperwork in his own files. He couldn't let things get too far out of his hands. He would keep everything under his control.

At least he used to be in control. Now he couldn't take care of his own affairs, much less those of his band. Mikey M sat behind his desk and pushed aside the stack of papers with the latest album sales figures and all the bills from Mirabeau. Let his manager and his accountants check that the numbers were right. He had his own problems.

Felix sat down uneasily on the chair opposite his. They may have been friends for over a decade, but Mikey M was not in the habit of confiding in anyone. They rarely discussed their shared past except when it was absolutely necessary. It was definitely necessary now.

Mikey M leaned back in his chair and said, "Josh Richter? What does he know?"

Felix looked grim. "Enough. Kristy's been doing damage control, but she says he's thorough. Kristy is talking to Lilly--"

"No one is contacting Lilly." He would not let his family suffer any more from his screw-ups. Lilly had her own work, and he was not going to let her get caught up in the media uproar that was coming.

"Richter has been talking to Lilly for weeks. She's already involved." Felix didn't need to say it, but they both knew that once Lilly decided to do something, there was little anyone else could do to change her mind.

"Has Richter talked to Mia's people?"

"He has tried. The Genovians won't cooperate with any reporter who wants to talk about you."

Josh Richter had to be kept away from Mia. He had to be gotten rid of. He had to be silenced. He had been Michael's least favorite person back in high school, and not solely because Josh Richter had been Mia's first crush. He was a self-important jerk. He had even managed to act like a self-important jerk in the few seconds that Michael had seen him in the lobby.

"There's thousands of reporters in the world. Why did it have to be Josh Richter?" Mikey M asked.

Felix shrugged. "Other people from back home already know, especially after Mia invited her old friends to her birthday party in May. They all recognized you. Ask Kristy. She always deals with the people from New York who really did used to know you. We don't tell Jen."

Jen's quietly efficient assistant had been keeping his secret for him for months, and he had never noticed. That girl deserved a raise. "Is she from New York? How did she find out about all this?" Michael asked.

"She wasn't at AEHS when we were. You remember her brother Kenny, don't you? He recognized you."

"Showalter. I thought her last name was just a coincidence."

He should have made a greater effort to get to know his staff. He should have allowed himself to be more open and friendly with his band mates. He should have known that Kristy knew who he was, and Felix should have been able to tell him before now that he was not as anonymous as he had thought.

"I need to talk to Lilly. And Kristy."

"And Mia?"

"No. Don't tell Mia anything about this. This is my problem, not hers. Send Kristy in here, would you? And don't let Richter leave the building. Tell him I'll see him."

J. T. Richter had lots of photographic evidence that Michael Moscovitz and Mikey M physically resembled each other. Handwriting samples from Michael Moscovitz in high school and college matched more recent handwriting samples from Mikey M. Richter found recordings made by Skinner Box back in high school of Michael's first original songs. Even in those rough, early recordings, Mikey M's voice was distinctive.

All the facts lined up. Michael Moscovitz and Mikey M were the same age. Michael Moscovitz's disappearance was immediately followed by the first appearance of Mikey M. Mikey M's ban from Genovia and the strong reaction from the Renaldo family were explained by the events of Mia's 18th birthday party. The entire complicated relationship with Princess Amelia made sense if Mikey M was really Michael Moscovitz.

The damn reporter was thorough, and he was completely right. Lilly had done her best to misdirect him, but J. T. Richter had the resources to check on all the lies she told him about Michael's "true" whereabouts. Even the Drs. Moscovitz had been interviewed. Michael's parents said very vague things about what happened to their son, but all their ambiguous answers did not contradict the theory that their son had become a world-famous rock star.

Mikey M closed the folder and handed it back to the reporter seated on the other side of his desk. "Good work, Richter."

Josh grinned, but he was too polite to gloat. That would probably come later. Now he had to be on his best behavior and see whether he could get a good quote for his story.

Richter was as awful as Michael remembered from high school. He was very blond, very tanned, very neatly dressed, very fit and athletic, very attractive, and very aware of it. Behind his bland smile was a calculating mind ready to make the most out of other people's weaknesses. He thought he had Mikey M at his mercy, and he was enjoying the power. Michael loathed him.

"So do you admit it?" Richter asked. "Your publicist denied it."

"Jen always denies everything. It's her job."

There had to be a reason why Richter had not published the story yet, and Michael was not going to cooperate unless he knew what Richter was really up to. Even after he knew what Richter was doing, he wouldn't cooperate. Michael had always hated Josh.

Richter tried again. "You admit that you are Michael Moscovitz. Right?"

"Having doubts?"

Richter was not discouraged by Mikey M's cold stare. He waved his folder of undeniable evidence and said, "Look, Moscovitz, I'm writing this story, whether you like it or not. I'm giving you an opportunity to cooperate. You've pulled off one hell of a scam all these years. I admire that."

Cooperate with Josh Richter so he could get a bigger story out of ruining Mikey M's image? No thanks. Mikey M would rather keep all the details of his "scam" to himself. But a straight refusal would send Richter straight back to Los Angeles to write his story.

"My name is Mikey M, not 'Moscovitz'. You have a copy of the court document for the name change." The name change document was part of the public record. Not even J. T. Richter of the _Los Angeles Times_ could get access to any records explicitly stating that it was Michael Moscovitz who was having his name changed to 'Mikey M'.

"Fine, Mikey M." Richter was already growing impatient. That meant it was time to try a different approach. Now for the straight-talk. In a more serious tone, Richter said, "I've got better things to do than hang around your recording studio, believe me. I don't do stories like this music gossip stuff. I deal with real news. But I figured out who you were, and I told my boss that I'd get the evidence to put a name on you. I've invested too much in this story to give up. I could publish tomorrow and get back to Washington and stories that really matter. I'm doing you a favor by being here ready to listen to your side."

Had J. T. Richter been more accustomed to doing "music gossip stuff", perhaps he would be less eager to point out how unimportant and insignificant he found Mikey M to be. Josh Richter always was an arrogant bastard. He didn't deserve this story. Let him cover the real news.

Richter added, "I love your band, by the way. Everyone does." It was a careless compliment, and it sounded much more like an insult coming from Josh Richter. He didn't care about the lives he was going to be severely disturbing, and he certainly did not care about the music.

Mikey M cared very much about the music, so that meant he was going to have to do something very, very against his nature. He was going to have to make a deal with J. T. Richter to buy his silence.

"I was going to spend this week with the band finishing recording our next album. If the _LA Times _comes out with this story, I'm not going to be able to do my work. Come back in a week. I'll answer your questions then. So will everyone else."

Mikey M wanted to take back what he said when he saw the look of smug triumph on Richter's face. Why did Richter have to be the first reporter who gathered concrete proof of his true identity?

"Will you promise not to talk to any other reporters about the story before then?" Richter asked. "And when you say you'll answer my questions..."

"I'll tell you my old name. You'll get the exclusive story. You'll be the very first reporter I talk to about the past." Michael took a blank piece of paper from his desk and wrote a promise to that effect, and signed it 'Mikey M'. He handed it to Richter. "If you want something more legally binding, get Jen to talk to my lawyers. I don't go back on my word."

"No one else gets the story?"

"I'm not talking to any other reporters. Do I need to add that to the paper? But I need you to be quiet for a week. I have too much work to do."

He sat in his office for a half hour after J. T. Richter left. He did not let anyone in. He did not use his phone. He simply thought. He considered his options. He made and rejected many outrageous plans. He decided what he needed to do in order to get what he wanted in his life. He decided on many things. He decided that he needed to find out who the best defense lawyers in Genovia were.

When Mikey M finally left his office, the rest of the band was quietly sitting in the main room waiting for him.

"I need your help," he announced. "That reporter knows me from high school. I've always hated the guy, and I'm not letting him control any part of my life. We need to finish the album really quickly. After it's done, I'm telling the world who I am in my own way."

Six days later, Michael was back in Genovia. It was time to face the consequences of his actions from seven years ago.

-----

There were three things Prince Phillipe valued above all others. First, the welfare of his family. That included his daughter, his mother, his aunts, his uncles. his cousins, his second- and third- cousins, and the rest of Renaldo-Grimaldi clan.

Second, the welfare of his country. The Parliament and justice system did help keep order, but in the end, Genovia was Phillipe's responsibility.

Third, the welfare of Helen Thermopolis. She may be happily married to another man and have a son with Frank Gianini, but she was the mother of his daughter. She would always be very special to Phillipe.

Seven years ago, Michael Moscovitz dared to threaten all three, and Phillipe would never forgive him for that. He would never forgive himself, either.

Phillipe had thought that the press was exaggerating Michael's depression over the break-up with Mia. He should have known that Michael was dangerous, and he should have had him watched. Instead, Phillipe had done nothing. He did not stop the press from focusing on the boy's mental breakdown. He waited for Mia to finish high school so she could leave the country and all the gossip behind her. He had completely misjudged the situation.

Michael Moscovitz was supposed to accept the end of his relationship with Mia and to realize one day that it had been the inevitable and best conclusion to their romance. He was not supposed to sabotage the security system of the Genovian embassy, lock Helen in a room, and hurt Mia in front of a room of important personages from around the world.

He was not supposed to come back into their lives years later and reclaim his position of Mia's boyfriend, like he was still entitled to the place in her life. He was not supposed to spend time in Genovia and get the public to actually wish he would remain Mia's boyfriend. He was not supposed to ever be at the Genovian courthouse for the trial for his misdeeds seven years ago.

Phillipe had been at the Parliament building when he had received a call informing him of the commotion at the courthouse. By the time he arrived to the courtroom, the only empty seats were at the table for the prosecuting lawyers. No one had bothered to appoint prosecutors for a case that was never intended to go to trial. Phillipe handed the envelope containing all the records for confidential case 557 to the judge, and he sat in one of the chairs intended for the prosecuting lawyers.

Michael Moscovitz – or Mikey M or whatever he wanted to be called these days – sat at the defendant's table, next to his team of lawyers: Maurice Laquer, the best criminal defense lawyer in Genovia; Vicomte Pietro Armado, a young Genovian nobleman and liberal Parliament member and, before he had become a member of Parliament, a top defense lawyer; and Professor Marita Lyons of the University of Genovia, an expert in Genovian law with an emphasis on the historical framework. Who had helped Michael Moscovitz prepare his legal team? And where was Mia?

She had not said a word to Phillipe about the trial. She was still avoiding him because of his treatment of Mikey M during his visit to Genovia, but she should have said something. It would reflect poorly on their country that the court system had been caught so unprepared for this very important trial.

Why was the trial taking place? Why couldn't the man do what he was supposed to do? How hard could it be for him to stay out of Genovia? What did he have to gain by being here?

The courtroom was silent as the judge unsealed the envelope for case and took out the contents. An eighty-page summary of the case against Michael Moscovitz, his signed confession, and the agreement they had made in order to keep the case from coming to trial. Everything was there.

Mikey M did not say a word. He looked at the judge while she read the first few pages, then he looked at his lawyers, who were looking at papers in front of them that Phillipe guessed were copies of what the judge was looking at.

"I call into session confidential case 557, the Renaldo family versus Michael Moscovitz."

That was it. The truth was out. Phillipe turned and saw that Mikey M was looking at him. The younger man did not show any sign of what he was thinking or feeling at this important moment of his life. He was distant, cold, and unfathomable.

The other people in the courtroom were not as emotionless as the defendant. The row of young people sitting in the row behind the defendant's table looked uneasy but unsurprised. They must be some of his music friends. Everyone else was whispering to each other, so anyone who did not know the importance of the name "Michael Moscovitz" was soon informed of its significance. Mikey M had finally been given a name, and it was as scandalous as the tabloids had hoped.

Before the judge could continue, the doors at the rear of the courtroom were flung open and Mia came in. She was not dressed for a day in court. She would never normally leave the palace wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of tennis shoes. Her face was flushed and her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed at all. She looked like she had just run from the palace down la rue Principale to the courthouse.

The room immediately became silent while everyone turned and looked at the new arrival. No whispers were needed to explain who she was, even if she was not as formally attired as she usually was meeting members of the press.

Mia was not followed by François or any of her assistants. She was breathing heavily. She really had just run from the palace. She had not known that Mikey M was coming for his trial. Her confusion and hurt was clear, as was her determination to be there for her boyfriend. She looked for Michael in front of the courtroom, then she quickly looked around the room, nodding at some of the people sitting in the spectator gallery and even at her father.

Everyone remained silent while the princess walked down the center aisle. Forget the jeans and the tennis shoes; she looked like a Renaldo princess. She went straight to Michael. He barely had time to stand up before she hugged him.

The last time Phillipe had seen Mia and Michael together was at Parliament. He had been surprised by how much comfort Mia had taken from Michael's presence back then. Now Phillipe could see the same effect. Mia held onto Michael in the middle of the courtroom with everyone, including the judge, her father, and the defense lawyers, looking at them, and she was not going to let go. The longer she held him, the more controlled and stronger she looked.

Phillipe did not like to see his daughter look upset, but he also did not like how dependent she seemed to have already become on Michael. She was going to be hurt now that his true identity was public. Michael was going to publicly hurt her and get her in all the papers again, just like he did seven years ago. He was already making Genovia look ridiculous by surprising them with this trial. He would have to spend more time in Genovia during the trial and before the sentencing. At least this time Michael would not be able to include Helen Thermopolis in his victims. Helen would be safe from him, even if Mia and Genovia were not.

If Michael was happy to see Mia in the courtroom, he did not obviously let everyone else know. He held her and murmured something in her ear, but he did not reveal much more of his emotions on his face. Mia nodded and let go of him. Michael sat back down, and Mia sat in one of the only empty chairs in the courtroom, next to her father at the prosecutor table.

"I didn't know Michael was coming," she said quietly.

Phillipe nodded. "I know."

"He said the judge already said his name."

"Yes."

"He says he won't go to jail."

Phillipe looked over to Michael and his lawyers. The case against him included a detailed signed confession and many eye-witness accounts. Even with the strongest legal team to have ever conducted a defense in the Genovian court system, Michael Moscovitz was going to be found guilty of a long list of very serious crimes with mandatory prison sentences. But Phillipe could not tell his daughter that. He simply said, "We'll see."

Mia looked over to Michael and forced herself to smile. Michael smiled back, with just as painful and forced a smile. He was foolish for returning to Genovia. He couldn't be doing all of this just because of Mia. Could he? It was a publicity stunt. He would vanish for good before he could be sentenced.

The judge read off the list of charges the Renaldo family was accusing Michael Moscovitz of committing. Phillipe had been very thorough when writing up the legal documents seven years ago. There were twenty-three separate charges of varying severity. The damage to the embassy gardens would result in only a heavy fine. The charges related to disabling the embassy electronic security system and breaking into the Genovian ambassador's office had more serious penalties.

"How do you plead?" the judge asked the defendant.

"Guilty for some of the charges and innocent of others." His lawyers handed Michael a piece of paper, and he read aloud the list of charges again and registered his plea for each.

Phillipe knew that Michael was guilty of all the charges, so he was surprised that he claimed to be innocent of about half of them, including some of the most serious allegations. Even with only the charges he admitted as being true, it would be a challenge for him to stay out of prison, like Mia said he would.

Sending Michael Moscovitz to prison was never part of the plan, no matter how furious Phillipe had been at the time. The charges and the threat of a lengthy prison sentence were to scare the boy into leaving Mia alone, and it had succeeded for many years. Michael Moscovitz had literally ceased to exist. Now the name was back, and the man who used to have that name was showing no sign that he was going to vanish again any time soon.

Prince Phillipe was going to find out why Michael had really returned to Genovia for the trial. But first he had to find a prosecutor for the case.

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(Note: More of Michael in Genovia in the next section. Sorry, sorry, sorry for the ridiculously long wait between chapters. All your reviews have been a great help in motivating me to write more of this story. Thanks for not giving up on my story.)


	24. Choosing Sides

Chapter 17 – Choosing Sides

"Secrets Revealed: An Exclusive Interview with Mikey M"  
by J. T. Richter

The popular rock musician Mikey M shocked the world with the revelation that he was Michael Moscovitz, the notorious ex-boyfriend of Genovia's Princess Amelia who had disappeared from the public view seven years ago. He refused to meet with reporters after his dramatic courtroom appearance, but he made an exception in order to speak with the _Los Angeles Times_.

According to Genovian law, Mr. M is not allowed to leave the country while his trial is taking place. He has released a statement confirming that he will be remaining in Genovia until further notice. Genovian legal experts estimate the trial will take anywhere from two months to two years to conclude.

The interview took place in a warehouse in the Genovian industrial waterfront. The first floor houses the night club Kassia, and Mr. M has rented the top two floors for use as a studio for Piaget's Children and for his personal living space.

"The studio is our top priority," Mr. M said. "No matter how crazy life gets, the music has to come first. I am fortunate that the band is willing to stick with me through all my legal problems. I owe it to them and to our fans to keep on going."

Last week Piaget's Children finished recording their eighth album, "Princely Charms", which is scheduled for release in December. A single on that album, "Better than Perfect", will be released this week. While touring is out of the question until the end of Mikey M's trial, his band mates have joined him in Genovia and they plan on using the night club as a rehearsal place until the second floor studio can be completed.

_Los Angeles Times _(LAT): Why did you choose to reveal your true identity now?

Mikey M (MM): It was time to stop hiding. If I didn't face the charges against me, I would have to give up Mia Princess Amelia Renaldo of Genovia. I already did that once.

LAT: Why not seven years ago? Or two weeks ago?

MM: Sometimes we need a shove from the outside to get us to do what we should do anyway. An censored from my old high school recognized me and wanted to exploit my hidden past for his gain, so I had to act first. If that censored ever tries to interfere in my personal life again, I won't be so nice about it.

LAT: Now that your past is no longer secret, will you be spending more time with your family in New York?

MM: I've always made time for my family. I will continue to protect them from unwanted media attention. That part of my life will remain private, as it always has.

LAT: How would you characterize everyone's reaction to finding out that you used to be Michael Moscovitz, best remembered for being a mentally unstable nerd?

MM: My band mates have been very supportive. None of them would call me, for example, a "mentally unstable nerd" to my face. They always knew that I'd had a rough life, and now they know the full story. They finally know why I can speak French so well and why Mia's family hates me.

The guys understand the legal mess that I'm in and they understand why I want to stick it out. Mia is very important to me. If we want to stay together as a band, the band has to be where I am, and I have to be where Mia is. The guys are renting Mirabeau again – that's where we stayed a few weeks ago – and I'm living here.

LAT: You already live here? I thought the builders were only working on the music studio on the second floor.

MM: They are. I'm staying in the third floor. Eventually we'll put a full bathroom there and some closet space. Maybe there will be a little kitchen area. I'm still meeting with the architects. There aren't even walls up there now, but I had a bed moved upstairs on the old freight elevator.

LAT: Why go through so much work to renovate an old warehouse to last for the trial? Can't you rent something for a few months?

MM: I'm staying for Genovia for good. My legal team says I won't be put in prison, so I have to have my own place.

LAT: Does Princess Amelia approve of your moving here in defiance of her family's wishes?

MM: I made this decision by myself, without her knowledge or approval. If it doesn't work, it was my mistake and I will be able to leave after the trial. She cannot leave.

I think she wants me to stay out of courtrooms and jails. Other than that, she seems to like to have me around. Or maybe she is too polite to brush me off. But we know she is good at making her views very clear when a man is not wanted. Right, Richter?

LAT: How has the Genovians reacted to your identity?

MM: I don't know yet. You tell me. Mia's family has always known about my past, and everyone knows how popular I am up at the palace. Her father is trying to throw me in prison. The Genovian newspaper this morning was sticking to the facts and to the official Genovian response. I think we'll get a better idea of what people think of me tonight. The band is doing a set downstairs in the night club Kassia.

LAT: Can you get me tickets?

MM: Not a chance.

That evening provided the beginning of the answer to how Genovians would react to him. The show was sold out, as expected for a group as big as Piaget's Children for a club as small as Kassia, but one of his assistants let me in. Princess Amelia sat at a table near the front with two bodyguards. She was the only person in the club who looked concerned about the future. Everyone was there in a different spirit. It was a big party, a welcoming party thrown by the young people of Genovia for their new prince, the former Michael Moscovitz.

------------

Mikey M had been in Genovia for over a week. Mia had thought that he had made her life super-complicated when he was her fake boyfriend over the summer, but that was nothing compared to what her life was like now.

The opening statements for Michael's trial would begin on Monday. The prosecuting team at the palace tackled Mia with more questions every time she went by the offices, They working at all hours of the day, and Mia knew that her father, grandmother, and other palace employees were often in the offices helping to prepare the case against Mikey M.

Not everyone at the palace was conspiring against the man Mia loved. Lars had asked to be excused from testifying, and Prince René was doing his best to disrupt the lawyers' work. He often sent poorly encoded messages to Kassia with what he believed were key observations about the prosecution team's strategy. René had visited Michael at Kassia as soon as he heard about the courtroom appearance, and said, "I do not abandon my old friends just because they turn out to be liars." Of course René said it in French, then he asked whether, as an old friend, he would be able to get an advanced copy of Piaget's Children's new album.

Down at the Genovian waterfront, Michael's defense attorneys were working to prepare for their side of the case. They had a conference room in the studio on the second floor of Kassia where they worked every day.

When Mikey M was busy with the construction of his new studio and living quarters, Mia would stop by the conference room to help the defense team. Her father and other tutors had taught her a lot about the Genovian legal system, but Michael's lawyers were young, ambitious, and eager to stretch the laws as much as they could get away with. They had a difficult problem to solve, and Mia enjoyed listening to their discussions so she could learn more about Michael's defense and about the limits of the legal system. And sometimes she could help out by providing important details that Mikey M did not remember to tell his lawyers.

"It's too bad that the charges were filed by the Renaldo family instead of the Genovian government," Professor Marita Lyons observed during one of the planning sessions. "There is legal precedent for dismissing all charges made by the government against a royal suitor. Prince Antoine in 1785 declared that young people should be permitted to be foolish when they are in love."

She looked ready to share the story behind why Prince Antoine made that observation, and Mia would love to hear the professor share another weird story about her distant relatives, but time was short and the rest of the legal team was not as interested in the Renaldo family history.

The criminal defense lawyer, Maurice Laquer, did not look up from his laptop where he was working on the opening statement. He said, "Get me the citation for that. Maybe we can use it anyway." He had the most actual courtroom experience of the trio of lawyers heading the team, so he would be making the opening and closing statements for their side.

"Have we heard back from the hacking expert?" Vicomte Pietro Armado asked. He was focusing on their strategy for questioning the witnesses.

"Doo Pak Sun is coming," a legal aide said.

Mia recognized the name. Doo Pak was Michael's roommate at Columbia during his freshman and sophomore year and, even after that, a good friend. They were both computer science majors and often took classes together and studied together. He would definitely be able to say what Michael could and could not have done.

"I haven't seen Doo Pak since Michael was at Columbia. What is he doing now?" Mia asked.

Vicomte Armado looked up from his notes. "You know Doo Pak Sun? Does Mikey M?"

"They were good friends in college," Mia said.

"Did anyone mention that before now? Someone get Mikey. We need another hacking expert, someone who is actually unbiased. How well did Sun know Michael Moscovitz? Mia?" Vicomte Armado waved a half dozen aides into action. The other lawyers were now also interested in this revelation.

"They studied together," Mia said.

"Mikey said he didn't have any friends. He said he acted alone," Maurice Laquer said suspiciously.

If Mia didn't adore Michael, she would want to strangle him. He was supposed to be helping his own lawyers and telling the truth, not perpetuating his stories about being the lonely, alienated, tortured artist. As far as Mia knew, Doo Pak had never turned on Michael when things got bad. He never sold his tell-all story as Michael Moscovitz's best friend. Doo Pak was still willing to be a friend and testify for Michael's defense at the trial.

"Michael is still mad at everyone for what happened," Mia said. "Are you getting his parents and his sister Lilly to testify? The Drs. Moscovitz made him come to dinner every weekend to be psychoanalyzed."

Vicomte Armado nodded. "They sent their reports to us as soon as they heard. So did his sister. Her reports on his mental state are not as formal as his parents', but she is very thorough. I'd like to see her parents' reports on _her_."

Professor Lyons was their expert on all the technical subtleties of Genovian law. She said, "Lilly Moscovitz's testimony will be acknowledged as her biased view of the events. She may think she is an expert in psychology, but the court doesn't. His parents will be giving testimony as licensed psychoanalysts. Mikey refused to see anyone else back then, and he won't see anyone now. We have to hope the judge won't dismiss the parents' testimony because they are parents."

Mia said, "The judge hasn't met Dr. and Dr. Moscovitz yet if she thinks that they'd go easy on Michael because he's their son. They've been telling him for years that he's severely disturbed."

These days she sometimes suspected that his parents were right about his mental stability. At first glance, Mikey M seemed to behave as he always did, telling everyone what to do and expecting complete agreement and loyalty. He wore his dark sunglasses and mismatched designer clothing that looked great on him. He was the handsome, stylish, cool rock star that the world had come to expect him to be. The message was clear: He was no longer Michael Moscovitz, so don't expect him to change just because people knew his old name.

But things were not the same. Michael had exposed an important part of himself to the world. Mia could see his uncertainty every morning when Skip gave him the latest sales figures for their albums. When he didn't think that anyone was paying attention, he actually read the stack of articles on him that Kristy clipped out of newspapers, magazines, and tabloids from around the world. He woke up extra early every day so he could read the Genovian newspaper before anyone else could. He no longer expected the success that had come so easily to him in the last few years. He was worried about how the band and he would come out of the scandal, even if he would never actually talk about those worries.

Now that the truth about his past had been revealed, Mia had expected that Michael would stop hiding everything from others. She should have known better. He was determined to take care of his problems himself, and no one else was going to take that burden away from him.

At least Mia knew that he loved her. If she had any doubts, she could read all the interviews he had given in the last week, beginning with Josh Richter's surprisingly amiable article in the _Los Angeles Times_. She heard from Jen that the first half hour was spent yelling at each other over whether Mikey M had violated their agreement by revealing his true identity in court. Of course Mikey M had won, as if Josh Richter could do anything to hurt him now. Mikey M was an important celebrity.

Michael was in Genovia for her. He had allowed his identity to be released so he could work at being allowed to stay in the country with her. He never mentioned their rejected marriage petition, but Mia still wore the engagement ring.

He had changed his life entirely because of her. He had risked his band's reputation by revealing his identity. He was standing trial for offenses that could result in a lengthy prison sentence. He was willing to sacrifice everything, again, for her. He had much more to lose now than he did back in college.

He loved her. Mia knew that she loved him, but she had not done nearly as much for him as he had done for her. She did not even have to leave her palace in Genovia. If she were not a princess, they could be married by now.

There was a knock at the door, and Kristy came into the conference room. "Mia, I think you should come down. Mikey M has a visitor. I don't know who it is, but I think it's— You'd better come down."

Everyone came to visit Michael, especially since his address was well-known and the first floor was open to the public every night. Mikey M did not appear at the club every night, but at least a few of the other band members would almost always be there. There were not many other places for alternative music fans to hang out around Genovia after dark.

A visitor being allowed to see Mikey M in the mid-afternoon had to be someone noteworthy. Mia promised to return to the makeshift legal office later to see whether Michael had inconveniently forgotten about any other good friends, and then she followed Kristy out to the studio area.

"They went upstairs," Ansel said, pointing to the door to the back staircase up to the third floor.

The only people who Michael invited up to his personal living quarters – or what would eventually be his personal living quarters if he ever moved in more than the bed, a few chairs, and a few suitcases of clothes – were people he trusted: Mia, his band mates, Jen, Skip, Kristy, and René. Prince René had been so appalled by Mikey M's inhumane living conditions that he had sent over a leather sofa and armchair that now stood in the middle of the large warehouse floor.

Kristy stayed behind in the studio, and Mia went upstairs alone. It took her a moment to figure out what she was seeing once she got upstairs. Apparently her boyfriend was being psychoanalyzed.

Mikey M was lying on the couch, with his head on the armrest and his legs hanging over the side, and sitting in the armchair by his head was a short, pudgy woman with short dark hair cropped at odd angles that were either very stylish or else the result of playing too close to a weed whacker.

Michael had his eyes closed, so he did not notice Mia's arrival. He told his newly-arrived psychoanalysist, "This is stupid. The couch isn't long enough. Do we really need to do this?"

"Why do you feel so hostile about answering a few simple questions? Or is this hostility really about me?"

"I'm not transferring any negative feelings to you that you don't deserve. Can I at least open my eyes?"

"No, you idiot. Now answer the question."

"Fine. If it was really the end of the world and I had to repopulate the planet but could only choose one life mate, and I had to choose between Buffy and Mia—"

Mia did her very best to stay quiet so she could observe the touching brother-sister scene, but she couldn't help herself from laughing at hearing their favorite game from high school.

Michael tried to get up faster than his awkward position on the couch allowed him to, so he only managed to raise himself halfway up from the couch to see his girlfriend and wave her to come over. Lilly partially smiled, which was enough for Mia to know that the past was all forgiven. If Lilly Moscovitz still held a grudge, she would let Mia know immediately.

It still felt awkward for Mia to see her old best friend again. They had not spoken since Mia left New York to live in Genovia before beginning college. On the last day of school before graduation, Mia had skipped French class because Lilly wanted to talk. That last confrontation had consisted of all the reasons why Mia was wrong and stupid and horrible and selfish and insensitive and awful and so on.

In spite of and because of all her faults, Lilly had been irreplaceable in Mia's life. The boring, perfect princess of Genovia had never had another best friend. No one else could annoy her nearly as much as Lilly could, and the loss of no other friendship would ever hurt as much as the break with Lilly. Michael had said that Lilly wanted to forgive her, but Mia wanted more than forgiveness. Lilly Moscovitz had a permanently reserved corner in Mia's life that had been neglected the last seven years.

Before Mia realized what she was doing, she was hugging Lilly and saying, "I'm so, so, so sorry. Really, really sorry." Mia was so caught up in the surprise of seeing Lilly again that she did not notice they were both crying until they had both apologized a few dozen times and finally stopped hugging.

"Where are you staying?" Mia asked. "I have a guest wing up at the palace if you need anywhere."

"No thanks." Lilly sniffed and looked in her pockets for a tissue. "Royal residencies are grotesque celebrations of unpardonable social inequality."

"She's staying at Mirabeau," Michael added. Mirabeau had been originally built for a 17th century duke who was probably not a progressive social democrat. Mia did not want to mention that now; they had to be back to talking to each other before they could start arguing over politics again.

Lilly turned to her brother and pointed at the couch. "You're no longer lying down and your eyes are open. What did I tell you?"

"You aren't a real psychologist yet," Mikey M grumbled.

Mia sat down next to him before he could follow his sister's instructions for the proper position for psychotherapy. He put his arm around her and she leaned against him, finding the familiar position of sitting next to her boyfriend again. Lilly half-smiled again, so Mia had all the assurance she needed that Lilly approved of her relationship with Michael.

"Michael is afraid you'll make him answer that question you asked before," Mia joked.

Lilly sat back down in the leather armchair and picked up her pen and notebook, ready to resume the session. "I was trying to make him feel more at ease. Psychotherapy cannot succeed without a high degree of trust between the patient and doctor."

Michael leaned over towards Mia and said, "Don't worry, love, you win every time."

"Me or Princess Leia?"

"Maybe we should have a talk about your feelings of inadequacy, Mia. I hope you have a good psychologist around here to help you sort through your issues." Lilly gave Mia a look that left no doubt as to whether this was a joke. Lilly still had a knack for staring Mia into incoherence.

"Well… actually…"

That was all of a confession Lilly needed. "Understood. I'll tell Mom and Dad to recommend someone to you. You'll be surprised how much you can get out of a single session with a skilled psychologist."

Big brothers never have to listen to their little sisters, so Michael did not have to pretend to take Lilly seriously. He asked Mia, "How good are you at using a phaser?"

"'Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope,'" Mia said in her best Princess Leia imitation.

Even Lilly laughed this time. This was what Mia missed the most from high school – the silly, immature, nerdy games that had no impact on foreign affairs, that would never make their way into the newspapers, that were harmless fun and nothing more.

"I really am sorry for everything, Lilly," Mia said. She may have already said it a few dozen times, but she needed to keep on saying the words and seeing that she had been forgiven.

It didn't take a partially-completed doctorate in psychology to understand what Mia needed to hear. Lilly said, "Sorry for what? I'm writing a book now about my demented brother, and he would never have been so demented without you."

"Umm, sorry about that." Mia tried to make it sound like a joke, but she still felt terrible for what she had done to Michael and his family.

Lilly was no doubt tempted to give Mia another lecture on the benefits of psychotherapy, but instead she shrugged, smiled, and said, "Michael has always been a nutcase. You just got him in the papers for being crazy. He would have ended up having a boring mental breakdown if he stayed at Columbia. Instead, he had an interesting mental breakdown."

"I agree," Mikey M said. "That's why the band's next album is dedicated to Mia. It all wouldn't have been possible without her."

Piaget's Children's next album was now in the hands of the production company. The first single from the album, the "Better than Perfect" tract written in what felt like an eternity in the past, was already appearing on radio play lists. Mikey M claimed that the release of the song had nothing to do with the trial, but Mia knew he was not telling the entire truth. It was another grand gesture – he was showing the world that he was not hiding from the gossip. He accepted it, and he could even use it to his advantage. The song was getting a lot of very positive reactions from people who did not normally listen to newly released singles.

"Are you staying for the trial?" Mia asked.

"I have to make certain my brother doesn't have another mental breakdown. Mom and Dad are coming this weekend."

"I miss having no last name," Michael said. "We could all pretend to be strangers. Now you're going to want to be on TV and yell at reporters, and Mom and Dad are going to psychoanalyze me again. Dad called yesterday and said he's sending more Zoloft."

"It's how we show our support, you idiot," Lilly said. "Accept it because we're not going away. That's what family means." That was probably not something she had learned in her social psychology courses, but Lilly believed it as completely as if it came out of one of her research journals.

Mia sometimes wished her family would go away. No matter what Michael did, he would never be able to be forgiven by her father and the rest of the Renaldo family. Mia may be the next Crown Princess of Genovia, but she had very little influence within the palace. Her father and grandmother ruled, and that meant that Michael was not going to be allowed in the palace for a very long time.

Grandmère had taken over the all official hostess duties at the palace since Mikey M's arraignment. Mia needed to be with Michael now, but the government business continued as usual. The family was probably glad that Mia was staying away from the palace as much as possible.

Clarisse Renaldo was not as active as she used to be, so Francine and the rest of the palace staff did what they could to minimize the number of events Princess Clarisse had to attend on behalf of the Renaldo family. Grandmère still insisted on having large dinners for visiting foreign guests, and Mia would go to those dinners. Or at least she would show up at some point during the dinner. She couldn't completely ignore her duties while she was having a personal crisis.

That evening she had expected to arrive in time for dessert with the Swedish ambassador to France, two visiting cousins from Monaco, and two members of the Genovian Parliament. She was surprised to find the formal dining room was empty. No people, no food, not even any table cloths were out.

Mia went out to the hallway to find a palace employee who could explain the mysterious lack of dinner. A cleaning woman said simply, "The dinner was called off," then went back to work.

Grandmère did not just "call off" dinners without multiple weeks' notice. Mia walked in the direction of Princess Clarisse's rooms in search of an explanation.

Before she could find that explanation, she found her charming distant cousin René. He did not usually come to the palace for the usual formal dinners, and when he did come to the palace on a weekday evening, he did not usually wear a tuxedo. He was walking quickly down the corridors, so Mia had to hurry to catch up with him.

"What's going on?" Mia asked.

He did not walk slower to help her keep up. He looked worried, which was very rare for him. If René was worried about something, it had to be serious.

"Is Dad all right? Grandmère? Tante Jean Marie? I just got back."

René said, "No one told you? Where were you?"

Where Mia had been was not important. Something big was happening within her family, and no one had told her about it. Mia grabbed René's arm and made him stop. "Tell me what's going on! It's bad, isn't it?"

René glanced at his watch. "I said I'd come at once. I really should-"

"Tell me." This was a royal commandment.

"Oncle Luc said that there was an accident. Clarisse fell. She has been treated in her room, but she asked for me."

"Fell? Treated for what? Is she OK? Why didn't anyone tell me? I was just down the road. Where is she now?"

They continued down the hallways, this time with René having to hurry to try to keep up with Mia's pace. Had Mia been at the palace fulfilling her duties as hostess, she could have prevented this. When Grandmère attended official functions, Mia was usually there, too. Mia could look after her grandmother's health and diet. Mia should have known that Princess Clarisse would want to do everything and would over-extend herself until tragedy struck.

Mia had convinced herself so well of the enormous gravity of the situation that she was startled to see Grandmère fully conscious, out of bed, and, really, looking no different from usual. She was sitting in a heavy armchair in the sitting room in her suite. There were light refreshments set up on the coffee table for her expected visitors. The only indication that this was somewhat out of the ordinary was the presence of the other family members in the room, who all looked much more concerned than Princess Clarisse was.

The most worried of the family members was Prince Phillipe. Mia knew that her dad always over-reacted when something wrong happened to a family member. He would want Princess Clarisse in bed being watched over by teams of clinicians if she so much as coughed.

He looked surprised but relieved by Mia's arrival. He got up from his seat next to Grandmère so Mia could sit down and take his place. He said, "Mia, you've come back."

Grandmère barely nodded in acknowledgement of her granddaughter's presence. She was far more interested in René's arrival in answer to her summons.

"Thank you for coming immediately when the family needed you," she said to him, in case anyone had not noticed that she had contacted unreliable, distantly-related Prince René instead of Mia. René sat on Princess Clarisse's other side.

"Are you OK, Grandmère?" Mia asked. "You canceled dinner, and Dad looks terrible. No offense, Dad, but you do. What happened? Why didn't you call me? You knew where I was."

Princess Clarisse did not approve of when Mia panicked and babbled, so she did deign to give Mia a disapproving glare for her behavior. After too long of a hesitation, she said, "The family is supporting you in your decision, Amelia. We will not inconvenience you if you'd rather be—"

"This has nothing to do with Michael and you know it. Just tell me. Are you OK? What happened?"

Oncle Luc intervened before Grandmère could respond to the Michael comment. He said, "Princess Clarisse stumbled down the last few steps on the main staircase this afternoon. She was lucky not to have been seriously injured. The doctor said she should stay off her feet for the next few days."

"He said that Mother should stay in bed," Phillipe added peevishly. He must have already lost the argument over whether Grandmère should still be in bed at present.

"Why didn't you call me?" Mia asked. "If it really wasn't serious, I could at least have filled in during dinner."

Grandmère would not let any of the other family members give a diplomatic answer for that. "I told them not to call you. We need someone else to act in your place at the palace now that my doctor and my son won't allow me to do so. I had a replacement contacted." She gestured to René, the least qualified person out of everyone in the room. He wasn't even Genovian!

René was just as surprised as Mia was by that proposal, but he wisely did not get involved in the argument. He may not be the most brilliant person in the world, but he had a strong self-preservation instinct.

Mia understood what was going on. "Why do you always have to make everything into tests?" she asked. "If you want me to spend more time at the palace, tell me you need me and I'll be here. "

"We will not force you to give up your tabloid romance with your musician, Amelia," Grandmère said. "You have shown where your loyalties lie."

The challenge was unavoidable, and there was only one response that Mia could make. She looked around the room and saw that her father and all her other relatives were watching and waiting. No one ever said that being a princess would be easy.

Mia spoke quietly. "Of course I'm loyal to Michael. I love him, and he loves me. He's done everything for me. But you know that if I have to choose between Genovia and Michael, Genovia will win. It always has."

Grandmère nodded, but she still required a further show of support. She asked, "Is _he_ aware of that?" The extra venom in the way she said "he" left no doubt as to whom she was referring.

Michael had moved to Genovia because it was her home. In order to stay in Genovia, he had to face the charges against him in the Genovian court. He had announced to the world that he loved her, and he was now wooing the rest of the country with his many casual public appearances. He did understand how important Genovia was to her. Why else would he bother staying in her tiny country? Why else would it be so important to him that the Genovians liked him?

"Yes, he knows that," Mia said miserably.

Mikey M was always too cool for boring Princess Amelia. She did not deserve him. He was too wonderful, and she was too weak to stand up to her family and stay with him.

The princess of Genovia had guests elsewhere in the palace to entertain, an injured grandmother who should be recuperating in bed, and a father who looked like he needed to be sent to bed himself. Mia was needed at the palace. Like it or not, she would do her duty.

Mia stood up and said, "René, thank you very much for coming to help the family, but I think I can handle it myself. Everyone should get out of Grandmère's suite so she can get some rest. What sort of dinner did we offer the Swedish ambassador? Did someone take him out to a good restaurant?"

She would call Mikey M later to explain why she would not be returning to meet him at Kassia in the evening.

-------

(Author's note: We're almost to the end! 3 more chapters to go before our happy ending. Thanks for reading! And thank you for your reviews. They help to remind me that I have a story over here that still deserves an ending.)


	25. The Trial

(Author's Note: A thousand apologies for leaving this story without an ending for so long. I hope someone still remembers it!)

--------

Chapter 18 – The Trial

The case of the "Renaldo family vs. Michael Moscovitz" was more than a trial; it was going to be a battle to the death. Instead of wielding swords and maces like in the court of Princess Rosagunde in the 8th century, Prince Phillipe and Mikey M used lawyers. Both men had virtually unlimited financial resources, and both were too stubborn to accept anything less than a complete victory. Two months had passed since opening statements, and the prosecutors had only presented the first third of their witnesses. The media predicted that the trial would last at least ten more months.

The facts of the case were well-established and thoroughly documented, but every witness had a different interpretation of how the situation had developed and who was at fault.

It was a failure of the Genovian embassy's security. Michael Moscovitz had been given official security clearance to be permitted to enter all parts of the Genovian embassy. That permission had not been officially revoked before Mia's birthday party. According to those security records, Michael Moscovitz was legally allowed to be in the ambassador's office on the night of the party. He did nothing wrong at all.

Or perhaps the fault could be localized to the computer security people at the embassy. Michael Moscovitz never had the official authorization to see the computer security system. Prince Phillipe had given his informal, spoken approval to the idea, but no paperwork had been signed. Michael Moscovitz's work at the embassy, even under the direct supervision of the other computer security experts, was entirely unauthorized and illegal.

It was the computer software's fault. Remote access to the computer security system should not have been possible. He exposed a security shortcoming that he was in no way responsible for causing. The system was inherently insufficient for the security required for a foreign embassy.

No, it was Michael Moscovitz's fault. Or at least it was Michael Moscovitz's fault with extenuating circumstances. He was temporarily insane. He was severely emotionally distressed and unbalanced. He was a bitter jilted lover determined to get revenge and willing to work for weeks to arrange his attack. It was a premeditated attempt to embarrass the Genovian royal family at a high profile event. Anyone who could pull off sneaking into the embassy and getting to the middle of the ballroom before being caught had to know what he was doing, no matter how lovesick he may have felt. He knew he was breaking the law, and he should pay for it.

The Renaldo family drove him to act desperately. He had been insensitively tossed aside when he was no longer a convenient boyfriend for Princess Amelia. He had been abandoned to face the tabloids alone. He had been used by the Renaldo family for years. He deserved an apology and compensation from the Renaldo family for what he endured.

Mikey M spent all day, Monday through Friday, sitting with his lawyers at the front of the courtroom. His band-mates were out promoting Piaget's Children's new album, "Princely Charms". His friends didn't have to be present to know what was going on at the trial: they could look at the front page of Genovia's newspaper. The tabloids and entertainment news shows from around the world also kept the public informed about every nuance in the trial. The big newspapers sent their reporters. Everyone wanted to see how the situation turned out.

Helen Thermopolis was on the stand. According to Mia, Prince Phillipe had strenuously objected to Helen's appearance. She hated to travel by herself, and it was the school year so Frank and Rocky could not come with her. The lawyers won in the end, so Helen sat in front of the crowded courtroom and tried to remember what part of the embassy she had been in when she heard Michael falling in through the ambassador's window.

"Could you hear the music from the ballroom?" Michael's lawyer, the Genovian trial lawyer Maurice Laquer, asked.

"I think so."

"Could you hear voices from the ballroom?"

"No, I was too far for that."

"No windows were open because of the air-conditioning. So for you to have been able to hear the music played by the string sextet, you could have been…"

Laquer turned to the large poster with the floor plan of the Genovian embassy. The floor plan had been displayed so often during the trial that all the jury members and court spectators should be able to get around the New York City-based embassy of Genovia with their eyes closed.

Mikey M had seen his lawyer in action for long enough to be able to guess what he would do. If the witness's testimony is bad for their side, it has to be discredited. Get her to offer more and more specific details about her memories until she 'remembered' something that was obviously wrong.

Prince Phillipe had not attended any court session since the opening statements, but he was present to watch over Helen Thermopolis. Michael could see the prince sitting behind the prosecutors' bench. Phillipe shifted uneasily in his seat as Helen walked into Laquer's traps.

"I was on the second floor. I remember that," Helen said. She was looking at the floor plan for the first time. Of course she could not remember her exact location. Michael could guess within a few meter radius where she had been standing, but that would not help his lawyers. They had to make Helen look unreliable. Michael was sick of trials.

Mia was not there. She had her princess-y duties at the palace that were always vitally important for world peace and/or Genovia's economic well-being. Michael was glad that she was spared from having to hear again and again about how messed up their lives were seven years ago.

"Which staircase did you talk to get to the second floor, where you found the Genovian ambassador's office?"

Helen looked at the floor plan. She didn't remember, but she was now genuinely considering the question and thinking about all the possibilities. The most logical staircase connecting the ballroom to the second floor had been closed off. If she said she took those stairs, Laquer's work would be done.

Michael raised his hand and said, "Motion of clarification."

His other lawyers sitting at the defense table turned to look at him, Professor Lyons with amusement and Vicomte Armado with genuine interest. Laquer had a fixed smile that was not completely disguising his frustration. Michael would have to apologize later for interfering, but he always liked Helen, and Mia and Prince Phillipe would kill him if he let his lawyer make her cry.

"Motion granted," the judge said.

"Based on the thickness of the walls and the amount of noise I made when falling through the ambassador's window, the only possible place Ms. Thermopolis could have been at the time was within two meters of the doorway. It is not marked on the floor plan, but the northeast staircase was closed off in order to prevent guests, like Ms. Thermopolis, from accidentally walking through the government offices. The gardens were open and the southeast staircase was open."

The prosecution lawyers were whispering together and looking at Michael with vague confusion and mistrust. Prince Phillipe was not looking at Michael. He was still completely focused on Helen Thermopolis on the witness stand.

Helen did not know the procedures of the Genovian courts like Mikey M, Prince Phillipe, and all their lawyers did, so she did not realize how big of a gesture that court motion had been. She smiled and said, "Yes, Michael's right. I was out in the gardens. That's why I could hear the music. But then it was cold so…"

Now that she had her memory refreshed, she was disappointingly accurate and reliable. If she hadn't been, Michael would have risked the wrath of Maurice Laquer and interfered again. Just because he was stuck in the awful trial didn't mean that people he liked had to suffer through it, too.

"A defense motion of clarification on behalf of a prosecution witness?" Vicomte Armado asked during the recess after Helen stepped down from the witness stand.

"She's my future mother-in-law," Michael said. "She didn't want to come here at all."

Laquer was not so easily mollified. "She doesn't remember what happened, and we could have proven that. The next time you decide to impress your girlfriend's family, wait until court is out of session."

He would forgive Mikey M in another hour when he had found a way to use his interference for their advantage. His lawyers were damn good at what they did. Their plans would not be disturbed by Michael sometimes impulsively sabotaging them.

Prince Phillipe had left with Helen. Of course he did not acknowledge that Michael had chivalrously saved Helen Thermopolis from publicly embarrassing herself. Michael knew where he was headed: it was time for Mia to present another petition to Parliament.

-----

"I am here speaking on behalf of my boyfriend, Mikey M. Mr. M petitions for permission to leave Genovia for two days, this up-coming Saturday and Sunday."

Mia stood in front of the full session of the Genovian Parliament, with her father sitting in front presiding over the assembly. She spoke calmly, clearly, and confidently, like she knew that she belonged there and deserved to be listened to.

She continued, "He has obeyed all the conditions of his bail for the last 58 days, including the stipulation that he remains in Genovia until the conclusion of his trial. He has suffered professionally, economically, and personally because of those harsh travel restrictions. He agrees to be accompanied by Genovian law enforcement officers and by representatives of the Genovian government. He will provide explicit details about his travel plans and be traceable at all times. He is open to making any additional safeguards you may suggest."

Mia presented similar petitions against the conditions of Michael's bail every week. In the beginning her petitions were quickly rejected with barely concealed impatience and disapproval. Prince Phillipe had said during the debate over the first petition: "Moscovitz committed serious crimes against the Renaldo family and Genovia. Consider this the start of his punishment."

The other members of Parliament agreed, though they were careful not to make any remarks about Mikey M's guilt or his trial. Instead it was a matter of following laws. "We do not grant exceptions to Genovian laws so young men can take their girlfriends out somewhere different for dinner," an older member of Parliament had said during the debate over the second petition.

Mia was more persistent than the members of Parliament had expected. She came back week after week, no matter how busy she was at the palace, to present her petition and to remind everyone that she was standing behind her boyfriend and would fight for him as best she could.

It would be great if Michael would be allowed to leave Genovia for the weekend. They could go to Paris or London together. Imagine an entire weekend without seeing Michael's picture on the front page of the newspaper in the morning. And, yes, Michael could take her out to a new restaurant. None of the waiters would know who had been testifying at Michael's trial last week. No one would stop by their table and offer legal advice.

"In addition to Michael's personal promise to return before the court session on Monday, I add the reassurance of the Renaldo family. I would like to cite the legal precedent of 1844, when Crown Prince Luc Renaldo succeeded in obtaining the release of the Baron de Rueda from jail after being arrested and detained for public drunkenness. The Baron de Rueda was granted his liberty because the Renaldo family reassured the police that the baron would be looked over. I reassure you, as a Renaldo, that Mr. M will be looked after even better than the Baron de Rueda. As a forfeit, I offer the ruby scepter of Princess Marie Louise, a family heirloom."

She had Professor Marita Lyons to thank for the obscure historical reference. Mia worked with Michael's lawyers to try something new each time she presented her petition. The professor said that Genovia's respect for tradition made even ridiculous historical precedents powerful legal arguments.

Mia's father had smiled when she had offered the reassurance of the Renaldo family, but he had not objected. Now that Mia had finished presenting her petition, he could begin the question session. Strangely enough, this had become Mia's favorite part. She could show off her knowledge of arcane Genovian law and often learn something in the process.

"Are you authorized by the Renaldo family to forfeit your great-great-great-aunt's scepter?" Prince Phillipe asked.

"Grandmère said it was mine when I asked her. I am offering my personal property in the name of the Renaldo family. If Michael does not return by Monday morning, the ruby scepter can be claimed by the Genovian government."

A young member of Parliament, Lucien Blanc, stood. "Buying privileges has never been part of the Genovian legal tradition."

"Respect towards the judgment of the Renaldo family is," Mia countered. "The Renaldo family has the ultimate responsibility for justice within Genovia. I say that preventing Mikey M from leaving Genovia for two months is unfair towards him. The conditions of his bail were unjust. I say that as a private individual and in my capacity as the future Crown Princess of this country."

Monsieur Blanc's friend and close ally stood up next. "The authority of the future Crown princess does not extend outside the Genovian royal palace until coronation. Prince Phillipe is the only person who can speak for the family."

"There is no legal definition of the reassurance of the family or the proper way to offer an item for forfeit, and therefore there are no legal requirements on who is offering. I am following a historical precedent and doing what is right."

Heloise Briat spoke next. She was a conservative, older woman who was usually a stickler for following the rules, but she had a sense of humor that Mia could always appreciate. "Where do you two want to go?"

"Relevancy?" Prince Phillipe objected from his position of moderator and head of Parliament. Madame Briat smiled and did not retract her question.

"I'm hoping for a quick trip to Paris," Mia said.

Mia was not very surprised that the petition was rejected. She would try again next week. At least Madame Briat was on her side now. She put her notes away and left the Parliament chamber.

Once in the hall she called Francine at the palace. "Did everything go well with Mom's testimony?" Mia asked. "Dad was in Parliament on time, and he seemed to be in a good mood. So that meant it was OK, right? Dad would exile Michael's lawyers if they were mean to my mom. He didn't, did he?"

Francine waited until Mia was done imagining the worst outcomes. She finally said, "Don't worry. Helen did fine, thanks to Mikey."

"What did he do?"

If Michael did something big and important in court, why didn't anyone say anything? Her father would know all about it, but Mia could not ask him. She only talked about Michael with Prince Phillipe when she was confronting him in Parliament

"Ask him tonight. Dinner at his place at seven."

Francine had never known that her job responsibilities as lady-in-waiting would one day include arranging dinner dates for Mia and her outlaw boyfriend, but she did that task as well as she coordinated garden parties and charity benefits. Since Mia had resumed her full-time duties at the palace, those dinner dates were not nearly as frequent as she wished them to be.

Mia asked, "What about Mom? I can't leave her with Grandmère and the great-aunts and the rest of the family."

"Michael invited her, too."

"Dad is OK about that?"

Francine didn't answer at once. "Well, she said yes."

That was good enough of an answer for Mia, too. She had other work to do, places to go, and people to see before she could stop for dinner. She would worry about her father later.

Mia was driven from the Parliament building to the Genovian children's hospital to discuss increasing the funding to the oncology department. She was not a doctor or an accountant, but the money was coming from the Renaldo family and the building was named after her grandfather, so it was her business, too. After signing the necessary paperwork to give them money for an improved computer system, she was led around the hospital by the hospital director. The children were excited to see a "real, live princess!", and the real, live princess wanted to cheer them up, so she spent most of the afternoon going through the children's wards telling them about kings, queens, knights, and dungeons.

Then it was time to go back to the palace for a late tea with representatives of a major American movie company who were evaluating Genovia as a possible filming location. The last thing Genovia needed right now was Tom Cruise wandering around la rue Principale, but Mia didn't say that. Filming movies meant more money for local businesses during filming, and more recognition for Genovia when the movie came out.

"Genovia's hot now," Arty Henderson said. "You have princes and princesses and arranged marriages still. It's like a fairytale."

"We don't have arranged marriages," Mia said, not that it made much difference in the minds of the Hollywood script writers. She flipped through a few pages of the script and saw enough either to be offended by how backwards her country was being portrayed – the princess is forced to get married by her 21st birthday in order to keep the throne? – or to want to laugh at how wrong their depiction of a modern princess was.

Henderson said, "Your people say we can't use the palace for exterior shots."

"Why did they say that?" Usually people at the palace leaped at any excuse to show off how pretty the castle was, even if it was in the background of an advertisement for Genovian olive oil.

"The terrorists blow it up in the end."

"Sorry, you can't blow up my palace." She skipped to the end of the script to see when Tom Cruise faces the terrorists and saves the princess moments before the palace explodes. "Does the princess marry Tom Cruise?"

"Implied, unless we want to do a sequel. Then all bets are off."

Mia did not spend much time sighing over the fate of the fictitious princess of Genovia, who would be tossed aside by Tom Cruise in the sequel if the movie producers found a better leading lady. Real princesses had boyfriends much cooler than Tom Cruise, although those super-cool boyfriends get stuck in court all day. The movie people wanted more incentives to film in Genovia and many assurances of the availability of the best filming locations. Mia excused herself to go down to visit Michael after the afternoon court session ended. She still needed to hear how he helped her mom when she was testifying.

"A defense motion of clarification on behalf of a prosecution witness? Michael!"

"I did it for Laquer's sake. What sort of future would he have in Genovia if he was mean to your mother when your dad was sitting there? I had to protect him."

Helen said, "I still don't see what the big deal is."

In an attempt to bring in more diversity into his meals without leaving the country, Mikey M had hired a top French chef and his staff to come to Genovia for the day and prepare dinner for them. The French chef demanded a proper kitchen to work in, so Mikey had had to rent the use of the kitchen at a local restaurant for his chef to use to prepare meal for three people. It was a ridiculously complicated and expensive way to get a good French meal, but Mia had to admit that the food really was excellent.

Helen had spent the afternoon in her guest room in the palace, hoping that none of the Renaldo family would try to find her. She really, really hated staying at the palace. She would have accepted an invitation to dine at McDonald's if it meant she could get out of a long, formal state dinner with ambassadors, ministers, and minor royalty. Mia knew that her mother had always liked Michael, even though she was not used to him as the rock star Mikey M. Who could get used to the idea that geeky Michael Moscovitz had turned into literally the coolest person on the planet?

He also had to be one of the most infuriating people that Mia had ever met. The point of having the defense lawyers cross-examine a prosecution witness is to discredit the witness's testimony, not to give the defendant a chance to play the knight in shining armor and help the witness get her facts right. Mia was glad that her mother's testimony went well, and Helen would be very happy to fly back to New York tomorrow, but Mia still wished her boyfriend did more to actually help his lawyers.

Michael still treated his performance in court as a normal, everyday occurrence. "If I didn't say anything, Ms. Thermopolis, you were going to say you went up the northeast staircase. Then we'd have to listen to lawyers talk all day about how reliable your memory is. Armado says I did the right thing to get you off the stand as quickly as possible. Plus the judge will think that I'm a nice guy."

"Well, you convinced me that you're a nice guy," Helen said. "Phillipe wasn't happy about that trick, though, with the staircase not being marked as being closed on the map."

Mia hoped her father was not too annoyed by the trick since Helen was saved before she could fall for it.

Michael was probably happy to have caused Prince Phillipe extra displeasure. He shrugged and said, "Don't blame me. I just pay the legal fees and get in the way sometimes. I won't let them call Mia or me or Lilly as witnesses."

Lilly had not been very happy when she learned that she was being excluded from the witness list. Michael had said that she would be too busy with her studies to travel back and forth from Genovia. The real objection to Lilly Moscovitz as a witness was that there was no way to make her shut up once she had an audience. If there was anything left of Michael's past that was still private, she would talk about it.

Mia was worried about her boyfriend. He was relaxed now, eating dinner in his (still mostly unfurnished and incomplete) rooms in Kassia with Mia and Helen, but he changed when other people were present. He was still way too good-looking and in control, but Mia noticed that he was a bit pale from all the long days spent indoors at the court house. He couldn't go out and get fresh air without having to make a formal press statement or at least sign some autographs. He was suffocating from all the attention. He needed to be out of her country and to be away from the constant media surveillance. He should return to his music, his career, and his real responsibilities. But Mia didn't say anything. Mikey M was not going to leave until he won in court and had all the charges against him dropped. He was too stubborn to settle for anything less.

During the cheese course, Helen asked Michael, "Do you really think that you're going to become the Prince Consort if you can stay out of prison?"

"Yes," he said, without any hesitation or uncertainty. "If I didn't think I'd be able to marry Mia at the end of all this, I'd go home tomorrow. I'm sick of lawyers and judges and Genovian law and not being able to go to real French restaurants. But this cheese is good. I'll get more sent here."

He was not allowed to change the subject to cheeses. If Mikey M declared he was going to do something, he always did it. He told Mia that he was not going to prison, and Mia believed him. Now he said he was going to be her prince consort, and Mia really wanted to believe him, but, well, it was impossible.

"What about Parliament?" she asked. In case he had forgotten, their marriage petition had been rejected months ago.

"Consult the Parliamentary Act of 1850 about the ways to reverse a decision of the Parliament," he said. "You do know the Parliamentary Act of 1850, don't you, love? It's your Parliament that you'll be leading some day."

Of course Mia knew the Parliamentary Act of 1850. She could explain precisely why it was passed, who was involved in writing it, the influence it had on the governments in other countries in the area, and more. She had taught him about how the Parliament works when she was still in high school. None of the ways to override a veto was applicable in their situation. Mia was certain of it. Did he really expect a pardon from the Crown Prince or the direct intervention of the highest courts in the country?

Helen was not interested in Genovian constitutional law. She said, "What do you think your life is going to be like if by some miracle you do get to be the prince consort? Seriously. You're going to have to fight for respect from the family and from the country and from everyone else in the entire world. It's going to take away from your music."

It was impossible for them to be married, and if it were possible, it would be an unbearable life for Mikey M. Mia could not believe he was serious about wanting to be her consort. She would not let herself imagine that happy ending. Impossible, impossible, impossible.

Michael said, "I'm used to fighting for what I want. The hard part was figuring out what it was that I really, really needed in my life. Now I'm here."

Oh, if only their happy ending could be possible.

-----

The opinion polls became more alarming every time Prince Phillipe saw them. Only 4 of Genovians believed that 'Mikey M' should serve prison time for his crimes. That by itself meant little. The only people whose opinion on that issue mattered were the judge and the members of the jury. Unfortunate it was only the first question in the poll.

If the poll was to be believed, 88 of the population approved of his daughter marrying the mentally unstable, morally ambiguous, accused criminal. 88! What was the sample size for the poll? Where did these people come from? What happened to the Genovians who were outraged that he had had an illegitimate daughter with a bohemian painter from New York City twenty-five years ago? What about the Genovians whose grandparents wanted Prince Phillipe's father to marry a woman with true royal blood?

Mia had high approval ratings. Phillipe's had never been so low, and it was all because of Michael Moscovitz's trial. 98 wanted the trial to conclude at once. 90 said that the trial had continued for too long already.

The crown prince lives to serve his country. The will of the Genovian people should be his guide. Besides, everyone in the country acted obsessed with 'Mikey M' and his tragic past. They all needed an escape from the trial so life could resume as normal in Genovia.

As for those 88 who thought that he should accept Michael Moscovitz as a son-in-law, well, they'll come to their senses with time. In some situations the people needed to be guided by their prince and be protected from mistakes they would otherwise allow.

Get rid of the man. Let him think he won by ending the trial, then see how long it takes before he's out of the country and out of Genovian affairs. Let 'Mikey M' go on tour with his band, give exclusive interviews with all the major newspapers and magazines in the world, appear on every show on every television channel, and do whatever else that rock stars do. With him gone, Mia would start smiling again. The newspapers would report real news again. Prince Phillipe's approval rate would improve again. Everyone would be better off without Michael Moscovitz wandering around Genovia complaining about his girlfriend's cruel father.

Later that evening Helen returned from her dinner with Mia and Michael. Phillipe stayed up and waited for her.

Helen's loyalties were easy to guess. "You're being too hard on Michael," she said. "And I'm not just saying that because he saved me from looking like an idiot in court today."

"That wasn't your fault. They showed you a trick map."

Helen never liked lawyers, so she expected them to play games and dirty tricks. She'd rather focus on the virtues of Mia's boyfriend than on his lawyers. "Michael told his lawyers that I'm going to be his mother-in-law, so he had to help me. He's sweet."

"They aren't even engaged anymore." And Michael Moscovitz was definitely not sweet. In the few personal encounters Prince Phillipe had had with 'Mikey M', the young man had shown only arrogance, insincerity, and rudeness. He may be on his best behavior when making public appearances around Genovia, and he may be able to charm newspaper reporters into writing whatever he wanted them to write, but he was still a sneaky, untrustworthy manipulator, always playing games with other people and only telling the truth when forced to.

Helen said, "I don't think those two can do without each other."

Prince Phillipe said nothing, but he knew he would be proven right in the end. The criminal trial must now conclude, but the next trial was only beginning. 'Mikey M' would be back in London with a new fashion model girlfriend within a week, and everyone would finally see how strong his commitment to Genovia truly was.


	26. New Priorities

Author's Note: Does anyone remember this old story? Is it still the longest story in the 'Princess Diaries' section? It's been eons since I updated. Sorry. But now I am back to this story again to give it an ending.

I absolutely and completely refuse to acknowledge the existence of book 8. Book 8 has shocked me back into fan fiction. I can control what happens to Mia and Michael in this story, and I can make certain that no one builds robots or eats what she should not eat or (censored for those who have not read book 8).

I have selective memory about the earlier books, too. I started writing this story years ago, when I had only read books 1-4. I had no idea that book 8 would come. Did anyone? Oh, Michael!!!

----

Draft 1 of the Ending of 'Better than Perfect':

Michael left Genovia and vowed never to return. Sure, Mia was cute, but she was not worth the effort of dealing with her family or her government. He concentrated on being the coolest rock star ever, and eventually he became Britney Spears' third husband.

Mia was bummed about Michael abandoning her, but then she remembered that he was not a prince and therefore was never worthy of her anyway. René may no longer have a country, but he was a genuine prince. They were married on Valentine's Day and divorced before Easter.

The End.

----

Draft 2:

Chapter 19 – New Priorities

From the front page of Genovia's newspaper:

MIKEY M GOES FREE!

The Renaldo family has dropped all charges against Mikey M following intense closed-door negotiations. Mikey M has issued a written public apology for the "distress caused to the excellent staff of New York's Genovian embassy and especially to Princess Amelia herself" (see pg. 2 for full text) and will make a donation of €70,000 to Genovian's animal shelter.

Mr. M has never denied the illegality and inappropriateness of his behavior seven years ago, when he broke into the Genovian Embassy in New York, USA, during Princess Amelia's 18th birthday celebrations. He has been fighting in court to avoid a prison sentence and to be permitted to enter Genovia freely. The terms of the out-of-court settlement are a clear victory for Mr. M and his legal team.

The Renaldo family spokesman said that it was Crown Prince Phillipe's personal decision to end the trial and begin negotiations with Mr. M. "Prince Phillipe will always enforce the laws of Genovia and see that criminals who violate the laws will be punished, but it was no longer in the country's best interest to dedicate more resources to persecuting a man for a youthful mistake for which he has sincerely apologized."

Sources within the palace say that the prince was concerned about the Genovian public's overwhelming support of Mikey M. The engagement between Mr. M and Princess Amelia was broken in August by a vote of the Genovian Parliament, but recent polls say that 88 percent of Genovians would approve of their marriage.

Mr. M left Genovia early this morning.

----

Michael's first stop was London to see that his clothes and few other possessions in his flat were sent to Genovia. Then he went back to work as Mikey M, the ultra-cool lead singer of the super-famous band Piaget's Children.

The band's newest album, "Princely Charms", had been released while he was stuck in Genovia, and it had received good reviews and strong sales. That wasn't good enough for Michael. It was the band's best album so far, but it had been treated like a footnote to the much bigger story of Mikey M's trial in Genovia. His band-mates had done their best to promote the album without him, but all anyone wanted to talk about was Mikey M and Genovia. Now it was time for Michael to take control of the publicity campaign himself. After months of being in the news because of the Genovian royal family, he needed to remind the world that he was still a damn good musician.

"I am here to speak about the album, not about Genovia or my girlfriend," he said again and again at interviews. That did not stop the questions about his personal life. He would smile and politely evade ones designed to get him to say nasty things about Mia's family or Genovia. He outright refused to say a word to any question about his own family. He had been isolated in Genovia ever since his true identity had been revealed, and there were many questions remaining that he would prefer to leave unanswered.

Had he made peace with the Renaldo family? Would he ever? Did he even want to try?

How much of his old life as Mikey M could he keep if he wanted to be accepted as Mia's future husband? Would he reduce his commitments to the band? If he had to choose, would he rather be Prince Consort or Mikey M? Could he avoid having to make that impossible choice?

Would he be forced to wait to marry Mia until the Renaldo family approved and the Genovian Parliament gave its permission? Would he wait forever for her?

At least that last question was easy to answer: Yes. He was going to marry her, no matter how long it took. But they had not even submitted their second marriage petition to the Genovian Parliament yet. The wedding may still be years away, and now he had his band's new album to promote.

After London, Michael flew to the United States to New York City, Philadelphia, Miami, Dallas, Chicago, Seattle, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. He told his band-mates to take a break and let him do the work. His manager and publicist tried to convince Mikey M to relax, but he insisted on pushing forward, talking to more reporters, making TV and radio appearances, doing music store signings, going out in the world and being a rock star.

Mia stayed in Genovia. Michael knew that she could not come, especially with everyone watching her and seeing whether she would chase after her boyfriend or stay in Genovia and do her princess-y duties. He didn't like being on the other side of the planet from his awesome girlfriend, but he'd have to get used to sharing her with her country. They talked on the telephone when they could arrange it.

"You're now talking to Genovia's new deputy minister of the environment. How cool is that?"

"Your dad will do anything to keep you in the country when I want you here with me."

"Thanks for your support. I'm going to be the best deputy minister of the environment Genovia ever had, and then Dad will have to give me a real position in the government."

"Who will drink tea with all the wives of world leaders?"

"Me most of the time, or else I can call your old friend René."

"René? Seriously? You trust him not to seduce the world leaders' daughters?"

"We had a nice chat. If he wants to live rent-free in Mirabeau, he has to help out the family when we need him. I think he's actually happy to have something to do and a real role at the palace."

It sounded like the role René was playing was the Prince Consort, but what could Michael do? He was in Los Angeles. Even if he was in Genovia, he was probably still banned from entering the Renaldos' palace. That still didn't excuse his old friend for stepping into his territory. If any man was going to take Mia's place at teas, it should be her future husband, and Michael would tell René that as soon as he got back to Genovia. And that would be after his planned stops in Japan, Australia, and China. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to go on a world-wide media tour to promote the album.

Los Angeles had been Michael's home for two years at the beginning of his musical career. He had arrived from Florida with brand new personal documents with his brand new name "Mikey M", a new hair style, and a guitar. Amazingly, Ray Gray had hired him to be a back-up guitarist in his band, and he never asked any questions about Michael's life.

Ray had said, "We all got secrets to hide. You're just a kid, so it can't be anything big. If it is, don't tell me or anyone else. Say the word if you ever need to get to Mexico fast."

Later he called Michael an idiot when he didn't want his picture with the rest of the band on their next album cover. Even later, he told Michael to stop regularly changing his entire clothing style and dying his hair. "Stop trying to hide from the FBI. You want screaming fans to recognize you on the street. Even I don't recognize you some days. And get rid of that ridiculous goatee."

Michael visited his old mentor soon after he arrived in Los Angeles again, and the crotchety musician still had plenty of instructions for him. "Where is the rest of the band? Make them deal with the media, too. I'm tired of seeing your face everywhere. You're not stupid enough to plan a tour for this album, are you? Forget about it. You have bigger problems to deal with. You're going to be a prince, right?"

"That's the plan."

"Fine, if that's what you really want. Money, fame, and beautiful women were always enough for me, but if you need to be a prince, too, then go be a prince. That's going to affect your music, no matter what, but that's ok. Your music has been changing all the time, especially this year."

"Changing for the better?"

"I don't know yet. Let me listen to your new album a few more times. Remember when you wanted to sing songs about Hegel and Saudi Arabian financial policies? You were a crazy kid. No wonder your girlfriend didn't want you to rule a country. Do you still think that you really have to have an electric violinist?"

Michael listened to the abuse and advice of his mentor, and eventually he got out his guitar and got the more detailed abuse and commentary on his playing. He was glad that that relationship had not been changed by recent events.

"Go be a prince, but if your princess ever tries to get you to stop playing, I'm calling in the marines and bringing you back here," Ray told him when he left.

Michael had expected his old friends in Los Angeles, especially his many ex-girlfriends, to resent that he had never confided in them about his past. Instead, they seemed to think it was the most exciting thing that had happened in years. His LA friends were so eager to show their support for him after his recent scandals that they threw him a big, exclusive, invitation-only party that everyone who was anyone wanted to attend.

"You took me to Princess Amelia's birthday to make her jealous, didn't you?" Veronica Märkl asked. "I'm part of history now. Who will play me when they make the movie?"

"It's a bit early for the movie. We don't even have an ending yet." He had to remind everyone again and again that he was not Genovia's Prince Consort yet. There were still plenty of problems he had to face before filming on the movie could begin.

Like his other LA friends, Veronica was used to Mikey M being able to do whatever he wanted, and that included marrying the princess of Genovia if he wanted to. "You'd be married now if you'd stop sulking and be nice to Princess Amelia's family. You can be charming when you choose to be. I'll tell you when I start getting offered scripts. I don't see why Anne Hathaway always plays the princess. They look nothing alike."

That led to a discussion of how Michael Moscovitz had been written out of Disney's bizarrely inaccurate second movie on Mia's life, back when he was still dating Mia. He had forgotten about that, and now he had powerful people from Hollywood around to hear just how much he resented that.

Next he had to help a rock critic with his iPod. Michael Moscovitz nearly graduated from Columbia University with a degree in computer science, so that meant that Mikey M should be able to say how to replace the scratched screen and improve the random-ness of the shuffle option.

He soon ran into another ex-girlfriend, the French fashion designer Juliette Boulez who, amazingly, actually remembered eating dinner with Mia and her entourage at the beginning of the mess.

"I made your princess some lingerie. It's red. I want an invitation to your palace. Prince Phillipe is hot."

Michael couldn't imagine Prince Phillipe dating a woman who had once dated both Mikey M and Prince René. Then again, Juliette was beautiful and Prince Phillipe was single…

"Now is not a good time for me to introduce women to him."

"Then invite me to your wedding and I will introduce myself. Bald, old men are sexy."

"I don't know how long you'll have to wait for the wedding. We're not engaged any more."

"Then get re-engaged and start planning the wedding." After giving that good advice, Juliette spent the next ten minutes describing the lingerie she made for Mia and all the adjustments she had to make for Mia's modest figure. Then she asked Michael a few more times when the wedding would be.

As the evening progressed and as more alcohol was consumed, Michael actually did shout, "I'm not a prince yet. There is no wedding. There's no engagement anymore. Let's talk about my f---ing album instead."

Then he found himself talking to a leggy blonde who seemed familiar for some reason. She wore too much make-up and hair-spray, and her clothes were meant for someone thinner than she was. She was definitely not an ex-girlfriend or an old friend or a big name in the music or movie world, so why did Michael feel like he knew her?

"I'm your biggest fan," she said with what was probably intended to be a flirtatious smile. Whoever she was, she certainly seemed to think that she knew him. Great. Just because he was not marrying Mia in the near future did not mean that he was single and available.

She continued, "I always knew there was something familiar about your music, like your voice was familiar and you were singing to me." That probably meant that she had known Michael Moscovitz back in New York. Great. She was now stroking his arm and giving him frightening looks.

He politely removed her hand from his arm and said, "It was all just for you, baby." It was best not to alienate his "biggest fan", in case she knew any embarrassing stories from high school.

"So you do remember me!" she shrieked, and then he did remember exactly who she was. Lana Weinberger. How did she get into his party? Mia really, really hated Lana back in high school. Michael had never understood why Lana Weinberger was worth all the effort. She never deserved the attention Mia gave her back then, and she certainly didn't desire any attention from the future Prince Consort of Genovia.

"I dream of you every night. Did we meet when I was in LA? I've done a lot of signings around here. Do you want an autograph or something?" He pretended not to notice how angry she looked at the idea that Mikey M did not recognize her. If anyone noticed that he was being uncharacteristically rude, he could say that he was too tired and drunk to be polite.

Actually, he was just sick of it all. He had better places to be than parties with ex-girlfriends and Lana Weinberger.

Forget about Australia, Japan, China, the new album, and everything else. He was a rock star, and he could do whatever he wanted. It was about time he married his princess, moved into his palace, and lived happily ever after.

---

According to the Parliamentary Act of 1850, a rejected petition can be re-submitted to Parliament after a year. That was too long to wait.

According to the second amendment of the Parliamentary Act of 1850, if an act of Congress has been unfairly influenced by the Crown Prince for strictly personal reasons, the high court can force the Parliament to vote again on the petition in an anonymous poll, without the prince present.

Prince Phillipe had been present at the Parliament session when Mia and Michael's marriage petition was presented, and he had spoken briefly during the debate. The Renaldo family had made their disapproval of the petition known in the public newspapers. It was against Genovian law for the royal family to made public remarks on the affairs of the Genovian Parliament.

Michael's lawyers were happily preparing their case to be presented to the Genovian high court in the next session. The session would not begin until after the New Year. That meant more waiting.

Prince René was not a very patient person. Before Michael had come, Genovia had been very boring. Now there were parties every night. He had to make certain that Mikey M and the rest of Piaget's Children stayed in Genovia, and that meant that he had to get Mia and Michael married as soon as possible.

After Michael left Genovia, René called a press conference to renounce his distant claim to the throne of Genovia and to support his cousin in her decision to marry Mikey M. A few days later he called a press conference for his little cousin Stefano to renounce his also distant claim to the throne of Genovia. The week after that, he got Francine and three other cousins to make similar renunciations of their claims to the throne. The Renaldo family was large, but René would hunt them all down until Prince Phillipe was totally without heirs.

There was still the problem of the second in line to the throne: the fashion designer Sebastiano. Sebastiano worshipped Mikey M, and he was genuinely delighted with Mia now that she wore clothes that he designed. He also lived in complete terror of Phillipe and Clarisse Renaldo.

René compiled a list of bribes to offer Sebastiano, and then one morning went to Sebastiano's studio on Genovia's rue Principale to see how much work it would take to get Sebastiano to a press conference.

"Seb isn't here," his assistant Angelo told him.

That probably meant that Sebastiano fled the moment he realized that René was coming. Everyone in the family knew what René was up to, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out why René would seek out his cousin. Sebastiano was not very brave in personal confrontations. He'd rather let Angelo take care of that.

Angelo was a familiar person to all of the Renaldo family. He had been working with Sebastiano for over a decade, first as his favorite model and now as his trusted assistant and partner. He was also Sebastiano's boyfriend, and they had been discreetly living together for the last five years. Sebastiano's sexual preference did not disqualify him to be the next Crown Prince, but maybe…

René was not very subtle when he had a new idea. "Did you hear that Mia proposed a new law permitting gay marriage in Genovia?"

"I heard that it was rejected almost as quickly as her proposed smoking ban."

According to family gossip, Prince Phillipe already regretted giving Mia a minor cabinet position, the deputy minister of the environment. That was all the encouragement Mia needed to start taking a fully active role in the government, and not just in harmless, straight-forward matters related to the environment.

René didn't think politics was very interesting, but Mia said it was fun. She was always strange. Hopefully Mikey M wouldn't notice how weird Mia was before they could get married.

René said, "Mia says she'll bring Genovia into the twenty-first century eventually. She's always been in favor of gay rights. And she wears Sebastiano's clothes a lot these days. You want her to be the Crown Princess, right? If you help her marry Mikey, I'm sure he'll get you into his club whenever you want."

Angelo was too well-mannered to laugh outright at René, but he did not hide his amusement at René's attempt at persuasion. "I don't have a claim to the throne, remember? I am one of the few people in this country not related to Phillipe."

René did not mind being mocked when he was on a mission that would bring great benefits to all Genovians, especially himself. Mikey M and his friends really knew how to party. "You will help, won't you? You can get married in the Netherlands. Then Phillipe would have to keep Mia has his heir and agree to her marriage."

"Phillipe is not going to disinherit his daughter," Angelo said. "You know that."

René knew as well as everyone else in Genovia that Prince Phillipe was dedicated to his family and would never permit Mia to be removed from the line of succession in the royal house of Renaldo. He would rather let the threat linger as a way to prolong the debate over Mia and Mikey M's engagement until enough time had passed that one of them gave up.

And René was really not at all patient. He was going to nag and push and shove the family until Phillipe caved in and let Mia marry whoever she wanted to marry. Sebastiano and Angelo had to join his group of young, cool supporters in the family.

"If you marry Sebastiano, Mia would give her full support, and Mikey M will throw you a big party and you'll meet all his cool friends. It will be a big deal. All the papers will cover it." René always assumed that everyone loved publicity as much as he did, and in this case, he was right. Angelo loved seeing his picture everywhere, especially when wearing really nice clothes designed by Sebastiano.

After pretending to consider the offer, Angelo smiled and said, "Sorry, friend, but you're too late. Mia already came up with that plan last week, and she even managed to make Sebastiano think that it was his idea all along."

"Really? And?"

"You'll just have to wait and see whether you get an invitation to the wedding."

"Can I plan the press conference?"

----

If Michael took yesterday's 6:30 pm flight on Air France directly from Los Angeles to Paris and then take the 3:30 pm flight from Paris to Nice, he could have arrived in Genovia by 5:00 pm.

Mia switched to the Microsoft Word window on her laptop so she could pretend that she was taking notes on the meeting of top representatives of the environmental offices of Spain, France, Italy, Genovia, Monaco, and Greece. She was doing her best to pay attention, but the meeting should have ended a half hour ago, and no one was saying anything interesting.

Genovia's Minister of the Environment was acting as the host of the meeting, and he should have noticed the time, or he should have seen the Spanish minister check his watch twice in the last five minutes and the Greek minister begin to pack away his papers. Minister Martin was not a very good host, and Mia really wanted to speak up and say they should go to dinner. But this was not her meeting. She was still a new member of the environmental ministry, and she was not going to make her boss look bad.

"Most these problems come from the eastern Mediterranean countries, not us. If the Maltese and Cypriots and Turks and Albanians aren't going to follow the proper fishing limits, then the fish populations will still be driven too low and our fishermen will suffer."

Mia clicked back to her web browser. If Michael took the 7:20 pm flight from LAX to London Heathrow on British Airways, then 3:55 pm from Heathrow to Nice, he would be in Genovia by dinner. Michael liked British Airways. He said that he had heaps of frequent flier miles with them. Mia said that the food on Air France was much better than British Airways. He said that Air France's in-flight movie selection was awful, but he had agreed that the liquor on Air France was better.

Michael had left a message yesterday with Ted that he was coming back to Genovia today. He had not said anything about which flight he was taking or when he would arrive. He said he'd "be in touch" as soon as he arrived. Mia had not received any calls from him on her mobile, and she told Ted and Francine to send her a message as soon as they heard from him.

What did Michael think of Lufthansa? 8:15 pm from Los Angeles to Frankfurt, then a flight from Frankfurt to Nice, be in Genovia by 8 pm.

There was a knock on the door, and one of the palace staff came in with a message. He paused in the doorway for a moment before walking over and handing the message to Mia. She was the youngest, least experienced, and least knowledgeable person in the room, but she was still the princess and, in the end, she was in charge. She knew everyone was watching her while she read the note.

"Tell Mia that Michael returned this afternoon." She recognized Francine's handwriting. She smiled. He was back! She would see him really, really soon, as soon as she could ditch everyone at the meeting after dinner.

She folded the note and announced, "We are being reminded that we said we would be finished a half hour ago. The rest of our dinner guests are waiting for us in the silver reception room."

Lesson #50 in working in politics: Tell people what they want to hear, and they won't notice or care if you're lying.

Mia led the way to the reception room. She didn't wait for the stragglers. Would it be way too impolite to leave before dessert? She heard someone playing a waltz on the piano in the room. René was in charge of keeping the guests – mostly the spouses and invited guests of the environmental ministers and a few Genovian political figures – entertained. Impromptu ballroom dancing wasn't something she'd expect from her cousin, but it was an improvement from last week, when René managed to get locked in the wine cellar for two hours with the attractive young wife of the Italian foreign minister while supposedly giving her a tour of the palace. No harm could come from ballroom dancing.

She opened the double doors to the reception room and saw that there were about thirty people there, the extra guests who had had to wait over a half hour for them. Five couples were waltzing for the obvious amusement of the rest of the guests. René was laughing and spinning around the room with the prettiest woman there, probably someone's wife. Maybe Mia should recruit other distant cousins to help out at the palace when she was busy with her new job.

Ansel – what? Ansel?– was playing the piano, adding extra flourishes and trills to the music as he chose. What was Ansel, Michael's band-mate and friend, doing in the palace? It must be René's fault. Did Mia's dad know? He was going to be at dinner.

"Mia! Finally! You're late!" René released his dancing partner with a bow, kisses on both cheeks, and a whispered remark that Mia did not want to hear. René had promised many times to behave himself and not to seduce the family's guests. He was such a liar.

The music stopped, and the rest of the officials from the meeting came into the room to find their guests and friends. René went straight to Mia. "How do you like your surprise? He would have waited to see you until after dinner if I didn't invite him to come now."

"Invite who? Ansel? It is a surprise to see him here, but I just saw him last night down at the club."

And then she knew that Michael was there, somewhere in the room. He must have been dancing, how could she not have seen him immediately?, where was he now?, why were there so many other people in the room?, where was Michael?

Suddenly he was standing in front of her. It had been only four weeks since he had left, and Mia had been very busy during that time with her new responsibilities as deputy minister of the environment and with her proposed reforms of antiquated Genovian laws, but she had still missed him very, very much. Phone conversations and watching him on MTV weren't enough.

Michael was underdressed for a state dinner: charcoal gray corduroy trousers, black cashmere V-neck sweater over a white T-shirt, black Converse sneakers, and his dark hair unbrushed and flopping in every direction. He had just spent over 13 hours in an airplane and traveled through 10 time zones. He was probably exhausted and jet-lagged, and yet he was here in front of her, smiling. Michael was home!

Her first impulse was to hug him and kiss him and tell him how much she missed him and how much she loved him and how much she admired his courage in wearing Converse sneakers to the palace. But then she noticed that everyone in the room was watching her. She would not act unprofessional in front of them and hug and kiss her boyfriend. She grabbed his hand, dragged him out of the reception room, and closed the doors behind her.

The corridor outside the silver reception room was still not a private place, but at least there were not 50 people watching them. There were only the palace staff passing by, who would pretend not to stare even though they had to know what a big deal it was that Michael was back!

Now she hugged her gorgeous boyfriend and kissed him quickly on the lips and said, "I thought you were going to Japan next."

"I decided that I don't want to go to Japan. I'd rather be here with you."

"How long are you here for?"

"Depends," he said.

"On what? Jen said that the sales of the new album are doing well in the pre-Christmas rush. I bet people in Japan will buy your album even without you going there. Or do you need to get ready to do a tour? Or a music video? You haven't made any for the new album, thanks to the trial and everything. You must have seen movie people in LA. Is that why you came back?"

Michael laughed. "No. I'm not here because of the band."

"But you said that you wanted to do band things until January. You said—"

"I changed my mind. I want to be here with you. I missed you. You're more important to me than the band. I want to get married."

"What?"

"We can't get married if I'm in Japan, can we?"

There were many problems they would have to face before the marriage would be possible. They still needed the Genovian Parliament's approval, and they would need a minor miracle to get Mia's family to accept Michael as her consort. But they had already accomplished so much in the last eight months that those problems didn't seem impossibly hard.

Mia said, "Good point. Now that you're back for good, we can get to work."

----

Author's Note: Be prepared to be shocked by how quickly the next chapter is posted. It should be ready in a few days (not months this time). We're really close to the end of the story, in which no one goes to Japan and no one eats what she should not eat. I need to give Mia and Michael a happy ending ASAP for the sake of my own mental health.


	27. Princely Charms

Author's Note: Sorry for the unreasonably long delay in posting the rest of this story. Thanks for all your reviews. I'm happy and surprised that people still care about my silly princess epic. This is the penultimate chapter. The end is nigh!!!! Really!!!!!

Chapter 20 – Princely Charms

While Michael had been away promoting his new album, his spartan living quarters on the third floor of the night club Kassia had been transformed into Mia-and-Michael's home. His princess had been busy. There were Persian carpets, an enormous chandelier in their dining room, a 19th century mahogany writing desk in what was now Mia's study, porcelain vases that belonged in museums, and portraits of Renaldo ancestors that had been taken from the palace.

The kitchen had food in the cabinets and refrigerator. The bookshelves had the books Michael had sent from London and Mia's romance novels from the palace. All of Michael's clothes had been unpacked and neatly hung up in his wardrobe in the bedroom. Mia had all her everyday clothes in her own closet, though most of her formal ball gowns stayed at the palace to save space. She would also have to go back to the palace for the Renaldo family jewels.

"You've been living here without me," Michael said the morning after his return. He had been too distracted the previous night to notice all the changes in the apartment during his absence. "What did your father say?"

Mia now knew where things were in the apartment and his wardrobe better than he did. That was why she made them coffee for breakfast and picked out a suit for him to wear for his day at the palace.

"Dad insisted on coming down and seeing the place for himself before he let Lars change my security arrangements. That's when Francine and I decided we needed the portraits and the vases, so it looks like a proper home for a princess. Do you like the chandelier? It used to be in one of the reception rooms, before Grandmère redecorated in the eighties."

Michael thought the chandelier was great, the carpets were great, and the fresh, warm croissants that had miraculously been waiting for them in the kitchen were beyond great. He did the right thing when he decided to return to Genovia. Now he could have Mia's coffee and fresh baked goods every morning for the rest of his life.

"Did you tell Phillipe that you make your own coffee?" he asked.

"We'll have to keep that secret. Parliament would never let us get married if they found out that you forced me to work in the kitchen." Mia took out her mobile phone and checked her e-mail. "René says he'll be at the palace at nine this morning. I don't believe that. Ten, at the earliest. Francine says Grandmère knows you'll be there today. Expect to be interrogated. Dad's going to be at Parliament."

"And you?"

"I'll be in the environment office in the morning, then Parliament in the afternoon. I have a great new bill that they're all going to hate. Ban cigarette vending machines." Mia looked amazingly happy talking about her plans for the day. All government bureaucracy in the morning and then arguing with stubborn old men in the afternoon. It was a big change from the quiet, elegant teas and charity events she used to do all day.

Now those teas and charity events would be Michael's responsibility. He was going to be a Prince Consort, and he had no idea what that really meant. It was time that he learned.

Michael arrived at the palace at ten o'clock, ready to be charming. René had taken over Mia's office in the palace. Actually, Ted and Francine still ran everything, but René was there smoking a cigarette, drinking a glass of red wine, and not reading about the guests expected that day. Mia was going to murder him for making her office at the palace smell like tobacco smoke. He jumped out of his chair when Michael came in.

"Prince Mikey is here!" René embraced his old friend and kissed him on both cheeks, then he poured Michael a glass of wine and proposed a toast, "To Genovia!" It was a bit early for alcohol, but Michael couldn't refuse to drink to his new country. He sat in a chair next to René's, and he wondered how long he would last before Clarisse or Phillipe threw him out.

René sat down and lit a new cigarette. "You will never be able to repay me for everything that I am doing for you. Everyone in the family is so desperate for someone else to act as official host at the palace that you may even have a chance."

"Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without your need to flirt with every attractive woman you meet. Did anything happen with the redhead from last night?"

"A devoted wife, unfortunately. Give me more time with her alone." René grinned, and Michael chose to believe that his friend was joking.

Ted wanted to hear about Michael's trip to the United States, and Francine wanted_someone_ to read her carefully compiled report on their guests. As usual, Francine won, and Michael studied the names and photographs of the twelve members of the Genovian alpine skiing team. René looked over the women and speculated on whether the prettiest woman would be too tall for him.

"Which do you want?" René asked. "It's your first day. I'll let you have first choice."

"I want Mia. Remember?"

"But can Mia do the slalom?" René winked and pointed at a blonde and said, "If she's single and under six feet tall, she's mine."

The Genovian newspaper had announced in big letters on the front page that Mikey M had returned to Genovia, but the Genovian alpine skiing team had not expected to see him at the palace. They were so surprised that they didn't say a word, they stared. Michael was nervous because this was the first time he had tried to be a Prince Consort, and he didn't know how to begin the visit. Was there a formal protocol? Someone should make introductions. Was that his job? The awkward silence was broken by dependable Prince René coming in the room with several bottles of wine.

"Look what I found outside Phillipe's office. It's his good stuff!" he announced.

And so Michael learned his first lesson about being the Genovian Prince Consort: Be yourself.

Princess Clarisse did not acknowledge Michael's presence in the palace in any way. He said hello to one of Mia's distant relatives in the corridors, but that was the only contact he had with Mia's family. They were not welcoming him with open arms, but they weren't actively trying to keep him away anymore. He was making progress.

Michael left the palace in the mid-afternoon because he was still suffering from jet lag and he needed to meet with his manager and his band-mates. He promised he'd be back tomorrow for his next Prince lesson.

* * *

During her walk to the Parliament building in the morning, Mia stopped in Sebastiano's studio on the Rue Principale. The shop in front was already busy with customers. Mia and her bodyguard went to the back rooms where Sebastiano and Angelo were working. Sebastiano was hand-stitching an extra row of sequins on an impossibly short orange skirt, and he stabbed himself with the needle when he saw Mia. 

"Michael's back!" she said. Everyone in the country already knew that, thanks to the newspapers, radios, and TV news, but she still liked telling it to people. "He's at the palace now. He's staying in Genovia for good."

Sebastiano nodded nervously. "Does he need more clothes?" The coward was hoping that she would forget what he said he'd do. It was a good thing Angelo was there, sitting in the back and flipping through some official-looking papers from the bank. Sebastiano didn't stand a chance against the combined forces of Mia and Angelo. Angelo was too cool to put aside the bank papers and treat nerdy Princess Amelia like an important guest, but Mia knew that he was watching and listening.

"We'll need another apartment for all his clothes if he gets anymore, but if you have anything for him, he'll wear it." Mia said. "Now how about setting a date for your wedding? You said to wait for Michael. He's here. We want to throw you your party now."

"_Now?_ We're not ready. No, not at all." Sebastiano looked over to his sexy boyfriend to support him, but Angelo simply smiled. Based on that smile, Mia knew that he would be ready to get married tomorrow if she asked.

Mia was getting good at arguing with weak-willed aristocrats in Genovia's Parliament. She was their princess, and the people of Genovia had a duty to serve her, kind of. "Stop being a coward and think of Genovia. Everyone in the world is watching to see whether Genovia is a real, twenty-first-century country or whether we're stuck in some medieval fantasy world. I want to petition Parliament to marry Michael before the Christmas recess, and Dad could make them say no. This will affect Genovia's international status. Your marriage will make my marriage possible, and together we will all save Genovia from its ultra-conservative, reactionary, prejudiced, stuck-up aristocracy."

Angelo and Mia's bodyguard François clapped (ironically), and Sebastiano looked more frightened than before. "Wait a little longer," he pleaded. "One month. You can be married on Valentine's Day."

Angelo finally intervened. "This Friday, Seb." Three days in the future! At least someone had been inspired by Mia's speech.

"Really?" Mia asked. "I'll tell Francine and Michael." The dutiful princess act was over; Mia was ready to hug and kiss her future cousin-in-law, and she'd send the Genovian marines to escort Sebastiano to the wedding ceremony.

"But—but you must tell your mother," Sebastiano said to Angelo. "We must tell our friends. They could be busy. And maybe Mikey has plans."

Sebastiano should be thanking his stars that he had such a patient boyfriend who did not want to throttle him for being such a wuss. They were going to get_married_. They were going to be _happy_. Why put it off? Mia was doing Genovia a huge favor by getting Sebastiano to take himself out of succession for the throne. He would be a terrible Crown Prince.

"If anyone has other plans, they'll change them," Mia said. "You're royalty. Michael's band will play. It'll be awesome. I'll tell Francine to book your flight to Amsterdam." Once Francine had a task, she would get it done, no matter what. She was part of the family, and she knew how to handle Sebastiano.

That done, Mia went next to a meeting with Michael's team of lawyers to finalize the revised version of the marriage petition. If she submitted it on Thursday, it could be scheduled for debate next Tuesday. That would be one week after Michael returned to Genovia and four days after Sebastiano's announcement that he's married and supporting Mia and Michael's engagement.

"Will you warn Prince Phillipe before you submit the petition?" Vicomte Armado asked Mia. That was not legally required, but he was her father and he might be a bit nicer during Parliamentary debate if he knew what to expect.

"He has to know that it's coming. It's not like I'm meeting you to discuss the new clean water regulations from the environment office."

"If we have Phillipe's support, we'll have no problem getting the petition accepted," Professor Lyons said. "Our arguments are based on technicalities in nineteenth century laws. If he doesn't want the petition passed, it can be rejected from debate based on other technicalities."

"But everyone else in Genovia likes Michael. Dad has to know that by now. He'll have to let us get married." Especially when he sees that the next in line of succession after Mia is now Oncle Luc from the Monaco Grimaldis. Accept Michael or watch the Renaldo family lose their hold on the throne.

Then off to the environment offices for the rest of the morning. They were considering imposing a stricter limit on the number of cruise ships to allow to dock at Genovia. On the one hand, they provided a lot of business for the local shops and restaurants, but they were too big, damaged marine life, polluted the waters, and they didn't stay long enough to support the hotels, casino, theatre, and other important businesses.

Mia spent the afternoon talking about cigarette vending machines and the unrestricted sale of tobacco to minors. After Parliament, she walked to the palace to see how Michael did. She hadn't received any frantic phone calls during the day, so it must not have been a complete disaster. It was highly unlikely that Prince Phillipe sent Michael to jail again, but she wasn't expecting a miraculous new friendship between the two men in her life. She just wanted to avoid bloodshed and courts.

"He was fine," Ted said. "He caused a minor riot in the kitchens when they realized that he would be there for lunch, and we haven't been able to keep people away from the office all day. People just want to see him for themselves." Ted was grinning while describing these hardships, and Mia knew he was almost as happy as she was that Michael was in Genovia again.

"Did Michael see Dad or Grandmère?" Mia asked.

Francine shook her head. "No, but I told Clarisse that he was here and that he hoped to meet with her tomorrow. He needs to learn the royal protocols, how the palace staff is organized, the names and titles of all the prominent Genovian and European government officials, and everything else that René never bothered to learn."

"You want Grandmère to teach him all that, like she taught me? Do you think she would? Voluntarily?"

"She'll agree eventually," Ted said. "He says he's not going away again. He was good today, even though he didn't know who to call for drinks or how to go from the green reception room to the front entrance. Do we have a map of the palace?"

"He'll have lots of time to get to know the palace," Mia said, and she smiled thinking happy thoughts about Michael. He was here, and he was going to be her Prince Consort. Not many girls get their own Prince Consorts. Her life rocked.

Mia looked over the next day's schedule for René and Michael, and she discussed the guest list with Francine. Then she heard what plans had been made for Sebiastano and Angelo's wedding. Francine was very good at her job, and there was no way she was going to let Sebastiano back out. François suggested that they arm the wedding party with tasers to keep Sebastiano in line.

Her final task of the day was to say hi to all her Renaldo relatives in the palace. The great-aunts wanted to tell Mia that they had seen her boyfriend and that he looked very handsome. "Why didn't you talk to him?" Mia asked Tante Emilie and Tante Jean-Marie. "He would like to get to know you."

"Oh no," Tante Emilie said. "We must support your father, and if he doesn't like the young man, we couldn't possibly speak with him."

"No, no," Tante Jean-Marie agreed absent-mindedly. "I remember him from the party with those loud Italian girls last summer, before he had a last name. He knows Mick Jagger, but he said that Bob Dylan was dead. Isn't that dreadful? Or maybe it was the other way around." Mia would tell Michael to try to speak with Tante Jean-Marie on her own. She was definitely one of Mia's least intimidating relatives.

Grandmère complained that she was catching a cold, her new tiny dog was catching a cold, and everyone had been neglecting her all day because of their _celebrity guest_.

"Michael wants to meet with you and learn how to be a good Prince Consort," Mia said. That didn't sound like anything Michael would ask for himself, but he'd do it if Mia and Francine told him to.

"I know that no one wants to waste their time talking to an old woman like myself, but I am surprised that I missed this news about your engagement. Last I heard, Parliament rejected it in August." Dowager Princess Clarisse smiled, no doubt pleased that she had done her best to ruin Mia's happy day and remind her of the difficult tasks ahead.

"Grandmère, I'm going to marry Michael." No reaction from Grandmère. If Mia had said that a couple months ago, her grandmother would certainly have argue loudly and vehemently against the veracity of that statement, but now she simply waited for Mia to get to the point. Mia tried a different approach: "If you won't help him, he's going to learn how to be the official palace host from René._René_, Grandmère! Think of Genovia's international reputation!"

Mia knew that her grandmother detested the idea of Prince René acting as host at the palace, but she seemed uncertain whether Michael would be an improvement. Clarisse said, "Michael Moscovitz – or whatever ridiculous name he wants to be called now – has never shown any consideration for Genovia's international reputation."

That may have been true six months ago, but now Michael was the #1 reason why Genovia was the hottest tourist destination in Europe. Since the trial ended, he had said nothing but good things about Genovia in the media. And now he was acting as the palace host and her future Prince Consort. He was doing more for Genovia's international reputation than anyone else on the planet.

"Do you want him to apologize for everything bad he's said about Genovia? He would. He loves Genovia now. He's changed a lot since we were in high school. Would you please talk with him tomorrow? He _needs_ your help."

Michael would die if he knew that Mia said that he _needed_ Dowager Princess Clarisse's help. Well, he would have to learn how to keep Mia's grandmother happy if he wanted to have any chance at being accepted by the rest of the Renaldo family. Mia had to be bribed with donations to Greenpeace to put up with Grandmère's 'Princess Lessons' when she was in high school. Would bribes work for Michael, too?

Grandmère looked pleased at Mia's plea for help on Michael's behalf. That was probably not a good sign. "He _needs_ me, does he? If he really, really _needs_ my help, he'll come and say so himself."

"Really? Then you'll teach him how to be the new host at the palace? And you'll tell Dad that you're OK with Michael? Really? That would be awesome, Grandmère!"

"Try to control yourself, Amelia. I only said he was permitted to beg for my guidance." But she smiled in her uniquely evil way that meant that she was already planning her prince lessons with Michael. She was going to enjoy herself, and Michael would have to grin and bear it. Very big bribes were going to be necessary.

Mia's dad was meeting with a member of Parliament in his office when Mia stopped by. "Hi, Dad. Hi, Monsieur Durand. Did you like my cigarette vending machine ban? I wrote it by myself."

"It was very good," Phillipe said. He was cautiously pleased with Mia's progress in Parliament. She knew she was doing really well, but Michael was the reason why she was able to be there, and Mia and her father never talked about Michael.

It was time to break the Michael taboo. He was part of their lives for good. She tried to sound casual as she said, "I'm heading home to see Michael. I'll see you both tomorrow in Parliament." There. The name had been spoken. It wasn't the right time to have a real conversation with her father about the marriage petition, but she wouldn't put it off forever. It was too important.

Michael was taking a nap when Mia returned to their apartment. He had changed out of the suit he wore to the palace, and now he looked adorably rumbled and cute. Mia let him sleep. She changed into casual clothes and went down to the band's studio on the second floor, where their friends were hanging out and arguing over dinner.

"The bouillabaisse from Moreau's," Ansel said.

"Sushi," Angus insisted.

"I know a fantastic place in Monaco," Jim said.

Mia sat next to Jen and asked, "How long has Michael been sleeping?"

"Mikey M says that the best way to get over jet lag is to stay awake," Skip said. "Wake him up and tell him we're going to dinner. His Highness should go out and interact with his people."

"He's had a busy day," Mia said, but the others enthusiastically quoted other words of wisdom from Mikey M about the virtues of sleeping too little and working too much. Michael was a very dedicated musician, and his bandmates must have been very tolerant to put up with his demanding habits.

Before they could decide on the best and most obnoxious way to wake up Michael, the man himself came downstairs wearing jeans, a sweater, and no shoes. Winters in Genovia were very mild compared to their winters in New York City when they were younger.

He yawned and said to Mia, "Why didn't you wake me up when you got home?" He kissed her quickly and then not-so-quickly, and he sat next to her. "Do you have to go to the dinner at the palace with the South Korean trade delegation?"

"No, I'm all yours."

"Then what are we doing here with these louts? I don't share." He whispered in her ear, "Let's go upstairs."

As the future Crown Princess of Genovia, Mia was too mature and sophisticated to blush. It was great to have Michael back. She shook her head and announced to Michael and everyone else in the room, "We need to be seen together, all of us, so everyone knows that Michael is still committed to the band."

"We should do a set downstairs in the club," Jim said. "Mikey M can try out some of his new material." Michael had new material? When did he have time to write more music? Mia wondered whether her boyfriend was an actual genius. She would ask him to play it to her later in the evening, when they would be alone in their apartment upstairs. Mia didn't like to share her boyfriend, either.

Mia said, "I've already booked you a gig on Friday. Sebastiano and Angelo are getting married. It's supposed to be a big surprise when they come back, so don't tell anyone, especially not anyone who will tell my dad or, even worse, René. Francine is inviting everyone on the planet to the club Friday night for the party."

"That doesn't seem like a good way to keep it secret," Michael observed. Mia had missed him too much to be annoyed that he was laughing at her.

"Sebastiano and Angelo will tell the truth to their friends, and everyone else will come to see Piaget's Children reunited with Mikey M in Genovia."

"But then they won't know to bring presents," Jen said, and Mia laughed with everyone else.

Michael took Mia's hand and asked her quietly, "Are we next? Or do we need to get rid of a few more heirs first?"

Mia squeezed his hand and leaned over to him and whispered, "I'm resubmitting our marriage petition on Thursday to be debated next Tuesday. This time you're a shoo-in. Just don't mess up at the palace and cause a war with France because of your bad table manners."

"Do you really think our petition will be approved? Your dad hasn't spoken a word to me since the trial. He despises me."

"If he really despised you, he wouldn't let me live with you and he wouldn't allow you to wander around the palace as the future Prince Consort and entertain the women's alpine skiing team. I think we're wearing down his resistance. Grandmère, too. You have to ask her to teach you about being a prince. She wants you to beg."

"_Beg_?"

Their private conversation was interrupted by their friends wanting to know their restaurant preferences. François cast the deciding vote for a local Moroccan restaurant, reservations were made, extra bodyguards were called in, and a hint to the local newspapers was delicately made. Mikey M and Piaget's Children wanted to be sure that they would be seen. René joined them after dinner and insisted that Michael and the others come to the casino and help him win back the five thousand euros he lost at roulette last weekend.

Mia and Michael walked home together after midnight along the waterfront, followed by François and Lars at a discreet distance.

"I would have been crucified in the papers if I went into the casinos last year," Mia said. "Everything is different now."

"I've corrupted you. Sorry. That's another reason why Parliament won't let you marry me."

"Don't be so negative. You're the best thing that ever happened to Genovia, and even the Genovian Parliament has to know that by now."

After a few minutes walking in silence, Michael asked, "Should I ask you again to marry me before you submit the petition?"

Mia laughed. She remembered the last time he proposed. Spending the night in Mirabeau with Michael sleeping on the floor, sneaking off the grounds barefoot, breakfast in the olive tree grove overlooking Genovia, and loving him so much that it hurt. Circumstances had changed. She still loved him, but now it didn't hurt at all. It made her happier, stronger, and more confident than she had ever been in her life.

She took his hand and said, "You weren't very good at it the last time you tried."

Michael smiled, also thinking back on that first proposal. "You know that I didn't really mean it back then. We were such idiots."

Yes, Mia remembered thinking that she was such an idiot for being in love with the man she became engaged to. Michael treated her awfully, and now she could have a bit of revenge. She said, "Well, I kind of meant it."

Even in the dark, Mia could see her boyfriend's reaction. He stopped smiling, then stopped walking, and turned to Mia. He was very confused. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I loved you even then, when you were being a jerk."

He shook his head. "I don't believe it. You hardly knew me."

"It was a big surprise to me, too." Mia wondered whether she was a bad person for enjoying how horrified and guilty Michael looked.

"Why didn't you say something? I was terrible to you!"

Maybe Mia should have been more assertive back then. She had been ready to have their fake engagement broken and let Michael leave Genovia forever, without ever even hinting to him that maybe she wanted him to stick around. She would have let her life be ruined again, like how she had allowed everything to go wrong when she was eighteen.

But then everything changed. Michael loved her, and together they had faced Parliament, the Courts, their families and friends, and the people of Genovia. She was so amazingly, incredibly, fantastically lucky to have him now.

Michael still looked confused and very, very handsome, so Mia hugged him and said, "I suppose I've never had very good taste in men."

"I have very good taste in women, and you are the only woman I have ever loved and the only woman I could ever marry. I also like your country and your crazy cousin René and Francine, Ted, and everyone else at the palace and maybe even your father for caring so much about you. Your grandmother still scares me. Will you marry me? I want you to say yes for real this time."

Michael's proposal wasn't poetry or even very romantic, but it was sincere and therefore it was exactly what Mia wanted to hear. "That's a big improvement. You didn't say I was pretty, though."

"You are beautiful. Will you marry me?"

Mia kissed him so there would be no doubt about her feelings on the subject, and then said, "Let me think about it."

"It's too late for second thoughts. I'm never going away now."

"Then I guess I'll have to marry you."

"Good."

Michael took her hand again, and they continued to walk home, past the piers with their rows of luxury yachts and, on the other side of the waterfront promenade, the up-scale restaurants and bars. The restaurants were mostly closed. Michael whistled something that Mia didn't recognize, probably something from one of his new songs he'd play her when they got home.

This was what it felt like to have everything you wanted. Mia was happy now.

* * *

Princess Rosamunde strangled the Visigoth Alboin with her hair, Clarisse saved Genovia from Nazis with a tea party, and now Michael would earn his place in the pantheon of Genovian national heroes by facing his future father-in-law, alone and unarmed. Their last private conversation had taken place in a Genovian jail cell. Most of their time together since then had been in court. Michael knew that Prince Phillipe was a reasonable (control-freak) man, a caring (over-protective) father, and a good (unelected) leader, and he didn't think that Mr. Renaldo would have him arrested and exiled from the country if Michael stopped by his office in the palace and tried to have a simple, brief conversation. 

The palace staff adored Michael, and they would tell him anything he wanted to know. One told Michael when Phillipe returned from Parliament, and another sent him a message that Phillipe was in his office without any guests. René was taking his second after-lunch nap, Francine was on the phone in her office dealing with Sebastiano's latest crisis, and Ted was down at Kassia talking with the rest of Piaget's Children about the party on Friday. Now was the perfect time for Michael to see Phillipe, whether he really wanted to or not.

Michael knew how to hide nervousness and uncertainly before a big performance. He would treat this like the Grammys or the International Music Awards. Instead of thinking about the people present, the people watching on TV, and the people reading the newspapers and magazines, he had only one man to worry about. Michael could handle that. He could be very charming if he tried.

After several twists, turns, and staircases, Michael knocked on Phillipe's door and was told by Phillipe himself to enter. Michael stood up straight, smiled, and then opened the door.

"Hi, Mr. Renaldo. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I was exploring the palace with this map that Ted gave me today, and I saw this was your office." Maybe Michael should not have begun their first civil conversation as future in-laws with a little lie, but that was better than tense silence until Phillipe threw him out.

The prince sat behind his desk, looking atypically casual without his usual tie or suit jacket. He was surprised to see Michael there, but he wasn't angry yet. "Good afternoon, Mr. M." He enjoyed stressing the silly name. 'Mr. M' sounded like a side-character from a James Bond movie. "How may I help you? Or is this strictly a social call?"

Michael would normally respond to cool sarcasm with even cooler sarcasm, but this time he had to be friendly and charming. So he sat down in the chair facing Phillipe's desk and he smiled in a very, very friendly and very, very charming manner. "I want to invite you to the party we're having at Kassia Friday night. You're always welcomed to come visit us, because you're Mia's dad and this is your country, but I wanted to make certain you were invited to this party. It's special. My band is playing, but that's not the special part."

"Thank you, Mr. M, but I am afraid that I have other plans for the evening." He was too smooth of a diplomat and politician to let his refusal sound like a personal insult. Maybe he really did have official government things to do on a Friday night. Phillipe was very dedicated to his country. "Besides, I've already heard your band play at Mia's party last May. Your fee was exorbitant. I don't see how any Genovian nightclub could afford you."

The exorbitant fee was supposed to prevent Mia from agreeing to hire his band. Everything would have been different had Phillipe gone against Mia's wishes and refused to pay Michael to come to Genovia for Mia's 25th birthday party. Based on Phillipe's expression, he was thinking the same thing and he wasn't nearly as amused by it as Michael was.

"I give good discount rates to my friends," Michael said. "It's too bad that you can't come on Friday. It's going to be a great party. René said that you used to stop by his parties sometimes, before I came to Genovia."

Phillipe did not have anything to say about his fond memories of René's house parties at Mirabeau. Maybe Michael shouldn't have brought up the fact that his future father-in-law was capable of having fun. Clearly this was time for Michael to abandon his attempt at a friendly conversation and go away. But he wasn't finished yet.

"One other thing, sir. I wanted to thank you for letting me help out here at the palace."

The prince almost but did not laugh at that unexpected remark. He said, "I didn't invite you here."

"You could have sent me away when I came. And thank you for letting Mia live with me."

There was another successful struggle against laughter at the idea that Phillipe had graciously allowed his daughter to live above a nightclub with her rock star boyfriend. "She decided where she wanted to live. I tried to convince her to be reasonable and stay in the palace."

"Thank you for giving Mia and me a real chance to be together. All this wouldn't be possible without your support, even if you won't make our lives easier and straight-out say that you support us."

"I'm still counting the days until Mia throws you out of the country and we can resume our real lives without you and the paparazzi." Prince Phillipe still didn't like Michael, but his threats sounded more like jokes than insults. He was starting to become resigned to his fate: Michael and Mia were going to be married, and Phillipe would have to wear his finest clothes and smile at the ceremony.

Now it was time to stop while he was ahead and leave before he said something wrong that could lead to another big argument with Phillipe. He stood up and said, "It's been a pleasure speaking with you, Mr. Renaldo, but I have an important appointment with Dowager Princess Clarisse. I have to beg her to teach me how to be a good prince. Don't forget about the party on Friday night, in case your other plans fall through."

That didn't go has badly as Michael had expected. Phillipe and Michael weren't going to become best friends any time soon, but they were going to make slow progress. For Mia's sake. And maybe, eventually, in the very distant future, they might discover that they have something in common, besides a tendency to argue, boss people around, and love quirky blondes.

* * *

The nightclub was mobbed when Michael and his band came out to play. Angelo looked radiantly happy, and Sebastiano had been given enough champagne that he was no longer worrying about Prince Phillipe's reaction to their news. Michael quickly picked out Mia in the crowd, standing near the stage with François and Jen. She was wearing a sleek gold dress, a little silver tiara, and high heels that made her taller than Michael. She was striking in a 21st-century princess way. 

"We're here to celebrate the happy ending for two very special people, my good friends Angelo Dardini and Sebastiano Grimaldi Renaldo. Congratulations. Be happy, and don't worry about what Prince Phillipe thinks. I'll always be his least favorite relative."

There were four more days before Mia and his marriage petition would be debated in Parliament. He should ask Mia to change the Genovian Constitution before Tuesday so their marriage petition could be decided by a vote by the entire Genovian population. If the guests at the club were voting, it would all be over in a couple minutes. He had already received dozens of congratulations on his re-engagement to Princess Amelia.

Michael gave a sign to his bandmates to play the opening of their first song, an old love song he had written several years ago for an ex-girlfriend. "You'll walk away and forget about me,/ and I'll walk away and forget about you,/ but tonight we're going to be together forever." He wasn't going to start singing sappy love songs just because he was in love and he was playing at a party in honor of a wedding. He wasn't a sappy kind of guy.

The next song was one of his new ones, the first time he had let it be played in front of a real audience, and that required his complete attention so he could hear and see what worked and what didn't work. There was something wrong with the ending. He could see that he was losing his audience, but that didn't make sense because the song had shifted into a minor key with a new harmony line and that usually made people want to hear why the song had changed.

Then Michael realized that his audience was turning away from him because there was something going on by the entrance. There were at least twenty security guards and policemen set up around the club, and every guest coming into the club had to be on the guest list and be searched. Michael thought it was all excessive, but there were many younger members of the Renaldo and Grimaldi family present and several movie stars, international fashion models, and other musicians who normally had their own security entourage.

What was going on? Michael came to the fascinating end of his marvelous new song that no one apparently cared about, and Mia clapped. He always liked Mia more than everyone else. He unplugged his guitar and stepped off the stage to talk with Mia, Jen, and François.

"What's happening?"

"Jen says that Dad's here!" Mia said, and then Michael didn't care much about the end of his new song, either. Was Phillipe here to approve or disapprove of Sebastiano's marriage, or was he here because of Michael and Mia? Was this a good or bad development?

"I don't think Prince Phillipe is on the guest list, is he?" Jen said, and she laughed nervously because she had to know how important Phillipe's presence was to Mia and Michael. "What are you two going to do?"

"Say hi, I guess," Mia said. Michael nodded. He first took off his guitar and put it on the floor of the stage. He'd be back to finish his set, especially if Phillipe stayed longer. He would see what a good party Michael could throw if he wanted to.

People stepped back to make way for Mia and Michael as they walked across the club towards the entrance. ("Did you know Phillipe was coming?" "Dad said he was going to be in Paris this weekend." "He won't do anything to Sebastiano, would he?" "I hope not." "What are we going to tell him?" "Welcome to our party? Have a drink on the house." "Please don't shoot us.") They were both tall enough to see over other people's heads to the family drama being watched by everyone present.

René had been stationed by the door the entire night, eager to welcome the guests, especially the very beautiful and very famous ones, and tell them the big news about his distant cousin Sebastiano and Angelo. Now he was giving the good news to Prince Phillipe, who did not look nearly as surprised as he should have been. He must have heard about their plans by some traitor. Michael suspected Francine may have arranged to have something be slipped.

Michael and Mia were close enough now to hear René say, "Now you must kiss the bride and congratulate the groom. You can choose which is which, but the general consensus is that Angelo is the prettier one."

Sebastiano looked terrified, as expected, but Angelo was not. He stepped forward and said, "We regret the secrecy, but it is very difficult to marry a Renaldo." Michael had never seen Angelo try so hard to be agreeable. It seemed to work, because Phillipe looked pleased by his second-in-line heir's unapproved choice of spouse. Hallelujah. Phillipe wasn't there to ruin the party.

"I found that to be very difficult for myself, as well," Phillipe said. Nothing about Sebastiano shirking his responsibility to the Renaldo family by removing himself from the royal succession, nothing about the scandal Sebastiano was causing by publicly outing himself in a still very conservative Catholic country, nothing about not being invited to the wedding. "Sebastiano knows that the family approves of his choice. We all want him to be happy."

Sebastiano stammered something that may have been "Merci" or "Have mercy". Phillipe formally shook Angelo's hand, then embraced him and kissed him on both cheeks like the southern Mediterranean that he was, beneath the stern, mean, unforgiving Crown Prince exterior.

Michael said, "I hope you'll stay for a bit, Mr. Renaldo."

Phillipe stopped smiling when he looked at Michael, the unwelcomed intruder who had abducted his daughter and brainwashed her into agreeing to marry him. Why couldn't Phillipe make another nice little speech about the Renaldo family wanting her to be happy, too?

"Michael is playing some of his new songs tonight," Mia said. "Please stay, Dad."

René added, "It's an open bar tonight. We have cases and cases of champagne. I'll find you a good bottle."

The party was resuming around them. The band, sans Mikey M, was playing an instrumental version of one of their old songs on the stage. The guests were talking and dancing again. The bartenders were opening more bottles of champagne. Phillipe still stayed by the door, not ready to join in the party but also not in a hurry to leave. How could Michael convince the prince to stay?

Someone tapped Michael lightly on the shoulder . He turned around and saw the perfect solution to his difficulty: his ex-girlfriend Juliette Boulez, who had told him last week in LA that she found bald old men sexy. He didn't think she was a close personal friend of Angelo or Sebastiano's, and he certainly didn't tell Francine and Mia to add any of his ex-girlfriends to the guest list, but that wouldn't stop Juliette from doing what she wanted. And she looked like she knew exactly what – or whom – she wanted.

"Juliette, I want to introduce you to my good friend Phillipe."

Prince Phillipe was definitely going to stay at their party for a little while longer.


	28. Epilogue

* * *

_Author's Note: And so we come to the end. I had planned on a fluffy wedding to end the story, but that turned out too boring. So here's something different. Thanks for reading and thanks for all your supportive comments over the years (!!). It's been fun, and now it's time to give our lovely hero and our brilliant, powerful, successful heroine their happy ending._

* * *

Epilogue – Ten Years Later

The best part about being the Crown Princess of Genovia was that Mia had the day off for her birthday. It was now a Genovian national holiday. The parade in her honor began at noon. That meant Mia had the entire morning to sleep late and lounge around her family's wing at the palace doing nothing much except watch TV and admire her perfect husband and their two perfect children.

At least that was the plan. Not even monarchs get what they want on their birthdays. Michael woke her up at eight o'clock and warned her that the kids were going to fix her breakfast.

"Breakfast? Who taught them to cook?"

"It's an important life skill. I'm supervising." Whatever that meant. As far as Mia knew, Michael hadn't even boiled an egg since they moved into the palace over seven years ago, before Jacky was born.

"I want a croissant and coffee. We can send Jacky and Chris down to the kitchens to bring back Mommy's breakfast in a couple hours. Come back to bed."

Her disobedient prince grinned and shook his head. He spent most of his days at the palace with the kids, and he still enjoyed getting them all into trouble. He was very lucky that the palace staff, and his wife, adored him. "I think we can handle pancakes. Blueberry or chocolate chip?"

Mia tried again to avert the certain culinary disaster. "It's my birthday, and I want a croissant and coffee."

"It's your birthday so you should go back to sleep."

Mia listened to all the opening and slamming doors, whining, flushing toilets, and arguing necessary for a seven-year-old girl and a five-year-old boy to wake up. Let Michael handle it. Usually Mia would be already on her way to Parliament by the time the kids woke up, and on weekends she was tired enough to sleep through anything, including Jacky and Chris's mini-crises, until Michael decided to wake her.

Mia was thirty-five years old today, and she felt like she had lived at least twice that long. She probably looked like it, too, from all her long nights at Parliament, early mornings worrying about the kids' flus, sore throats, and bruises, and her too-frequent trips to Brussels, Rome, Paris, Geneva, and everywhere else that a conscientious European leader had to go.

Her father had abdicated two years ago, and now he was enjoying his well-earned retirement in tropical islands surrounded by beautiful women, with regular visits to Genovia to visit his grandchildren and harass people in Parliament he had never liked. Maybe it had been a mistake to give him a permanent seat in Parliament. He was still the person Mia went to for advice whenever things went wrong, and things sometimes went very wrong. Who would guess that a tiny country with only 30,000 inhabitants could have so many problems? But Mia did her best, and she thought she was pretty good at what she did.

Mia had brought home some papers from the office about new EU immigration policies, but today was her birthday and she did what Michael had suggested and allowed herself sleep a bit longer. She was very good at sleeping. It was too bad that she didn't have the time to do more of it.

Two hours later, two very cute kids and one very cute husband came into Mia's bedroom half-yelling, half-singing "Happy Birthday". All three had more flour and pancake batter on their clothes than would be needed for at least four dozen pancakes. Mia was surprised to see a perfect stack of pancakes waiting for her in the dining room.

"We helped," Chris insisted. "There was a box full of dead chickens and Daddy said I couldn't touch it but he let me look inside the oven and he said it was big enough to cook me but then he wouldn't let me go in and find out whether it's big enough. Nanette called me names and Jacky laughed."

Prince Christophe Thierry Robert Moscovitz Grimaldi Renaldo was, like most five-year-old boys, a handful. He had inherited his father's dark hair and eyes, but he was one-hundred-percent Grimaldi Renaldo, with the shameless charm and happy self-confidence of generations of minor leaders. He could always make Mia laugh, especially when she shouldn't. He attended kindergarten in the mornings, and in the afternoons he ran around the palace trying to avoid his private lessons with his tutors. When he was very good, the kitchen staff would allow him to help wash dishes. When he was bad, he had to sit quietly and drink tea with the spouses of foreign leaders with his father.

Princess Jacqueline Valérie Megan Clarisse Moscovitz Grimaldi Renaldo was more like her mother, for better and for worse. She was very tall for her age, an awkward dancer, hopeless at tennis and golf, super-observant, and much smarter than most people expected. She attended a public elementary school in Genovia, in an attempt to give her something vaguely resembling a normal childhood. Unlike Mia, Jacky was growing up with the knowledge that she would become the next Crown Princess of Genovia, and, unlike Mia, she had happily and enthusiastically accepted her position as soon as she was old enough to understand what it meant.

"Daddy mixed up the salt and the sugar," Jacky said. She grinned because she knew that her mother would eat the pancakes anyway.

Did pancake batter even require sugar? That didn't give Mia much confidence that the pancakes would be very edible. But a present is a present. She accepted the plate of pancakes from Michael and smiled as if she were shaking hands with an African dictator with a poor human rights record or a Republican US president.

"They _look_ good," she observed. Each pancake was a perfect circle with uniform thickness, and they had little pieces of fruit – she hoped that was fruit and not bits of Chris's dead chickens or worse – in them. None of the pancakes she had made with her mom back in New York ever turned out so well. If she didn't know that they were the result of her children's first attempt at cooking, they would look and smell delicious.

"Go ahead and try them," Michael said. "There's real maple syrup." It was a dare, like they were all kids again.

Chris was oblivious to his mother's dilemma. He sat across the table from Mia and said, "I ate five and Jacky ate two and Daddy had a croissant and coffee and he said we weren't allowed to tell you that. Can we watch cartoons now?"

"Michael! You are in so much trouble!" Not even Chris believed that his mother was really angry with his father. She was laughing too much.

Michael attempted to look contrite, even though he wasn't. He said, "Don't let your pancakes get cold. We spent hours in the kitchen… and we succeeded in convincing the very best cook in Genovia to cook for you. Frédéric wouldn't have spent his morning on pancakes if we weren't there setting off the fire alarms."

The palace's top chef, Frédéric Morel, was the world's biggest snob and refused to make normal food, even when Mia really wanted a pizza. No one, not even beloved Prince Consort Michael or everyone's pet Princess Jacqueline, could get him to change dinner menus once he had made up his mind.

"Frédéric made me pancakes? Our Fred? Awesome. You guys are the best." She kissed Michael and then she kissed Jacky and leaned across the table to attempt to kiss the top of Chris's head, then she kissed Michael again and tried the mango-kiwi-passion-fruit pancake that she never knew could exist. Wow, it was her new favorite food on the planet. Frédéric was a god.

Watching Mommy eat wasn't interesting enough for the kids, and they were granted permission to watch cartoons in the living room, but only French cartoons because Chris needed to work on his French.

Dowager Princess Clarisse had loudly objected to their decision to teach their children English as their first language, as she objected to so much in their lives. Yes, Grandmère was _still_ alive. She still resided in her own wing of the palace, though with fewer mixed drinks and cigarettes, on her doctor's orders. Michael spent time with her every day, with or without Mia and the kids. It had taken Mia years to realize that Michael and Grandmère didn't hate each other. Clarisse was Michael's mentor for how to be the Prince Consort, and he was the finest pupil and most attentive audience that she had ever had. They bickered and complained about each other constantly, and they understood each other in ways beyond the comprehension of non-Prince-Consorts. Or that was Prince Phillipe's theory. He had stopped complaining about Michael after the birth of his first grandchild.

Watching Mia eat was very interesting for Michael. He sat down and poured himself another cup of coffee. "Clarisse wants me to wear a naval officer uniform to your parade. She's still on my case about joining the Genovian navy. I think she wants me to drown so she can take over raising the kids."

"Then they would never learn how to cook." Mia started eating her third pancake. Cranberry, boysenberry, and lime. Heavenly. "You could have just told me that Frédéric made the pancakes."

"That wouldn't be as much fun. He wanted us out of there so he could work on the banquet after the parade."

Several hundred representatives of Genovia and the European political world would be attending her birthday banquet in the afternoon. It would be a very elegant celebration. The Genovian royal orchestra with violin soloist Boris Pelkowski would perform. Though unannounced, everyone knew that Michael would perform a new song he had written for Mia's birthday. He had done so on all her birthdays since her 25th. The birthday cake was a state secret, not even Mia knew where it was coming from or what flavor it would be. This sort of event used to scare Mia, but now she accepted it as part of her everyday life.

"What are we having, besides the box of dead chickens?"

"I'm sure it's nothing we have ever heard of, and you'll say that it's your new favorite food and ask whether we can gave it next year, too."

He was right, but there's nothing wrong with being predictable. Mia said, "Thanks to Grandmère, you'll be wearing the opposite of a naval officer uniform. No jeans, please. What's Jacky wearing? Did Sebastiano make her a dress?"

Jacky was beginning to develop very strong opinions on fashion. To her cutting-edge-stylish father's surprise and regret, her strong opinions were at least seventy years out of date.

"It's baby blue and frilly with puffy sleeves and lots of lace. Seb did his best to make it not embarrassing. She loves it. I told her she would have to ask you whether she could wear a tiara like her mommy."

The dress sounded perfectly acceptable for a seven-year-old girl, but Mia knew that Michael also considered her taste in fashion to be hopelessly old-fashioned. That's why he had chosen the outfits she would wear throughout the day. He was good at knowing what clothes suited her and what would send the right message to the international press when her picture showed up on the front pages. According to Grandmère and him, extensive fashion knowledge was part of being Prince Consort.

"She's too young for jewelry, don't you think?"

"She's mature for her age. But if we let her, we have to do something for Chris, too. He'd love Clarisse's naval officer uniform, if they made them in his size. Do we have a sword he could wear?"

"You had better be talking about a blunt, useless ceremonial one. I don't want him skewering my cats."

"Their blubber would protect them from surface wounds."

Mia let the insult to her cats, Naps and Josie, go. The TV was in the next room, and Mia could hear the beginnings of an argument. Chris and Jacky had already exceeded the magical time limit for how long two children could sit silently watching cartoons. Mia looked through the doorway and saw that TV screen was switching between a French speaking cat and English-speaking Bugs Bunny, as the kids fought over the remote control.

Her responsible, mature daughter said, "If you don't listen to me, I'll make you be the ambassador to Mongolia!"

"No you won't!"

"Yes I will. Wait and see. I'm a princess like Mommy and you have to do what I say."

"But—but you said you'd make me be the ambassador to New York and live with Granny!" He stood on the couch, which was against the rules, and called out, "Daddy! Jacky lied!" Jacky leaned over the side of the couch so she could hear what their parents said, too.

"I'll handle this," Michael said to Mia. He put down his coffee and stood up so both the kids could see him. "Chris, you aren't allowed to watch any cartoons unless they are in French. You skipped your French lessons yesterday without permission. As a punishment, you have to watch that French cat." That wasn't much of a punishment, but Chris still looked disappointed because he had lost the argument and gotten a rebuke from his father. Then Michael turned to Jacky. "Remember what your mother told you last week, Jacky. We don't believe in nepotism in this family. Your brother has to work for a living. You, on the other hand, have inherited wealth, power, and social position."

Now the kids were both indignant because their father was making fun of them, and Mia was trying to be the good parent and to not laugh. She loved Michael's attempts at parental discipline.

"I'll ban Chris from the country, like Grandpère did to Daddy," Jacky said. "I can do that, right?" That question was directed to her mother, the expert on Genovian law and what a Crown Princess could and could not do.

Mia said, "Your brother is a citizen of Genovia, and all citizens are allowed into the country. If you want to keep someone out, you need to strip him of his citizenship first, and that's very difficult to do. Your brother is not going to commit treason or espionage."

She would explain what qualified as acts of treason and espionage on some other day. Chris was already bored with the conversation on boring law and government, and he was still unhappy that his father was making him watch French cartoons. Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd reappeared on the TV screen. Maybe they should try to live without satellite TV and its many American and British channels for a couple weeks. That would be hard, though. Mia would have to ask Lilly to TiVo _Gossip Girl_ and _Project Runway_ for her.

"I don't want to be a stupid ambassador anyway," her son grumbled. "I'll live in the Bahamas with Grandpère."

Michael walked into the living room, took the remote from Chris's hands, and changed the channel back to the French cartoon. He sat down between the kids, and said in his flawless French with his now natural Genovian accent, "_Je n'ai pas compris. Il y a ici quelqu'un qui parle français?_" Mia thought that Michael was better at getting the kids to use their French than their tutors were. She half-listened to Chris and Jacky's explanations in _français_ of the cat, its stupid owners, and the wicked mice while she finished her pancakes and slowly drank her coffee.

It was a beautiful day for a parade. Of course, Genovia had perfect weather for ninety percent of the year. If Mia were to list the best things about Genovia, the weather would come close to the top of the list. The unexpected gray or rainy day reminded them of how lucky they were to live somewhere that was almost always bright, warm, and sunny. Another great thing about Genovia were all the flowers. In her years working in the environment offices, Mia had helped to limit the amount of construction in the tiny country, reduce the number of polluting cars and boats, expand the public parks, and clean the beaches. All those measures had been initially unpopular in Parliament, but Mia had fought and won because she was right. Genovia was one of the greenest countries in the world, and she was now world famous for being an environmental crusader, kind of like Al Gore but younger, female, funnier, and better-looking. It was good to get attention for doing something other than being born a princess and marrying Michael.

There were plenty of problems in Genovia, first and foremost a severe housing shortage because too many people wanted to live there. Michael suggested in private that they invade France and claim more land for Genovia. In public Prince Consort Michael was completely apolitical and voted anonymously like an ordinary Genovia citizen. He said that ruling the country was Mia's job, not his.

Mia changed into the light-weight green summer dress that had been carefully selected for her appearance at the parade, then joined her family in the living room, where they were now watching a superhero cartoon dubbed in French. The cartoon was now getting a musical accompaniment from Michael with an acoustic guitar. Jacky and Chris were completely absorbed in the cartoon, in a way only possible for kids under the age of ten, and Michael was singing a Genovian folk song celebrating Princess Rosagunde, the only significant figure from Genovian history. Michael's version involved descriptions of superpowers suspiciously like those from the cartoon.

"Rosagunde couldn't fly," Mia said once Michael had finished. Jacky shushed her to be quiet so they could watch their show.

"How do you know? You weren't there." He stuck his tongue out at Mia and started playing a Beatles song. Eleanor Rigby now had a flying horse and could shoot lasers with her eyes. Michael was spending too much time with Chris.

Thanks to Michael, music was part of their family's daily life. He had several guitars and a piano in his 'study'/music room. They had had the room sound-proofed when they moved in to avoid waking babies. Now that they didn't have babies to disturb, he brought his guitars into the living room and provided soundtracks for all occasions. After a long day at Parliament, Mia would gladly listen to Michael for hours. Jacky and Chris were a more demanding audience, and Michael learned the traditional Genovian children's songs for them. They complained whenever he changed the words or improvised on the tune. He did also his best to broaden and improve their musical taste by performing solo arrangements of his favorite songs from Piaget's Children, Rolling Stones, Beatles, Pink Floyd, the Clash, and everyone else that a well-rounded child should know.

Michael's band Piaget's Children was still around, but now months could go by without everyone being in Genovia for long enough at the same time to play together. Michael encouraged his band mates to do other projects, collaborate with other bands, and try out solo work, while he stayed in Genovia with his family. The band's albums came out less frequently than they used to, but they were worth the wait. Mia thought that their music was cooler than ever. Prince Consort Michael would sometimes become Mikey M for a couple days to do a concert in Paris or London, and he made occasional appearances at music award shows and other high-profile events, but most of his music-making now had to take place in Genovia, either down at the night club Kassia with his friends or else in the form of playing his guitar for his family.

The cartoon bad guys were all captured, and the superheroes were reciting the morals they had all learned during the episode. The relaxing morning was over. It was time to get ready for their appearance as a happy family at Mia's parade.

Mia got up and turned off the TV. She stood in between the TV screen and her family and declared, "You three are a mess. It's time to wash up and get dressed for the parade." She was the princess, and Michael and the kids knew to listen to her when she was serious, especially when it concerned what she considered her duty to Genovia. Genovia had to be the most important thing in the world to the Renaldo family, otherwise they shouldn't be the country's rulers.

Michael put down his guitar, and Jacky got off the couch and went to her room. Chris was going to be more difficult; he was still sulking about having to watch cartoons in French.

"Don't wanna go," he mumbled.

"Yes, you do. You like parades."

"No."

Mia could order him to do what she said, because she was his mother and his sovereign, but he was too adorable and she never had enough time alone with either of her kids. She sat down on the couch, hugged him, ruffled his hair, and then tickled him until he was no longer sulking.

"Everyone in the entire country is coming to my parade," Mia said over his giggles. "It will be the most fun parade ever. There will be horses and acrobats and soldiers in uniforms." Now for her trump card: "Uncle René will be there."

"Really? He will?"

"He'll _really_ be there. He's family. If he misses my parade, I'll throw him in the dungeon. Now let's go get you ready."

Mia used to be worried by how much Chris idolized René, the happy-go-lucky black sheep of the Renaldo family. Now she used the promise of seeing Uncle René as a reward for good behavior. René still lived primarily at the Renaldo's French estate Miragnac, where he contemplated his long-lost lands in Italy and partied hard with his friends. Sometimes Mia tried to convince him to do something remotely productive with his life, and he would laugh.

Chris's second favorite person in the world was Mia's half-brother Rocky, but Rocky was studying film at UCLA and couldn't skip classes for a week to fly across the world for a parade. Helen Thermopolis wasn't coming, either. Mia's mom would never feel comfortable at the formal, official functions that were a part of Mia's life. They would have a private family birthday party when Mia and her family went to New York City in August.

One family member had flown in from the US for Mia's birthday: her sister-in-law Lilly. She was now a fully trained and licensed psychiatrist, and she had a shockingly successful private practice in NYC, where she bullied her adoring clients back into mental health. Lilly sometimes tried to complain about how the common people of Genovia suffered in order to support Mia and Michael's lavish lifestyle at the palace, but that didn't prevent Lilly from visiting them often.

Jacky needed help with buttoning the back of her dress, and Chris wanted a real sword and not a fake one. Mia was glad when outside help arrived, in the form of Auntie Francine and their invaluable nanny Estelle. When Jacky was born, Mia had been worried and alarmed by the large staff at the palace appointed to help look after her child. Now she had no idea how other working moms and dads survived without all the help. Taking care of two small children was hard work.

Michael was changing into his parade outfit: white short-sleeve T-shirt, gray wrinkled linen trousers, and red flip-flops. "I think that is the most normal outfit you have ever worn in pubic," Mia observed. "Are you becoming an old fogey already?"

He grinned, and then he reached back into the closet and took out a traditional Genovian olive grower's wide-brimmed straw hat. There were maybe two traditional Genovian olive growers left in Genovia, and not even they would wear hats like that. They belonged in museums and the background of old paintings.

"Do you like it?" Michael put it on and examined himself in the mirror until he had found the best angle to wear it, according to fashion rules beyond the comprehension of average mortals. Of course, he was right. It looked good on him. Mia marveled at the birth of a new fashion trend.

"You'll be the belle of the ball, as usual." Mia did her best to kiss her husband on the cheek without disturbing the perfect angle of his hat. He tossed his hat onto their bed and kissed her properly.

"It's your day, Your Highness. I'm there to make certain the kids don't do anything too stupid. And when I say 'kids', I mean your son Chris. My daughter is an angel. Did you already get the emerald tiara from the vault?"

Mia pointed to a polished wooden box on her dressing table. "Francine brought it with her." She had many tiaras. This one was light-weight and pretty without being so valuable that she would be nervous about wearing it outside for a long time. She let her husband help her pin it in place.

"Dazzling, as always," he declared when it was finally in place.

"Yeah, isn't it? Grandpère got it for Grandmère after she had Dad."

"I meant you, not your jewelry."

Mia smiled and accepted the compliment because after nine years of marriage, she knew that he meant it. Besides, it was her birthday. She was allowed to forget about the bags under her eyes, the extra weight she never fully got rid of after Chris's birth, EU immigration guidelines, carbon emissions, and every other unpleasant thing. If they didn't bother Michael, they wouldn't bother Mia, either. She was happy now.

They stayed by her dressing table, enjoying the moment until the voices of their children were too loud to ignore. Based on what Mia could hear, giving Chris a sword was an even worse idea than she had suspected.

Michael said in a low voice, "We can leave the banquet early, ask Estelle to baby-sit, and go somewhere quiet. You, me, Jean Pierre, and whoever we're using as a driver these days." Jean Pierre was Mia's bodyguard. Michael refused to have a bodyguard of his own. He had taken years of self-defense and weapons courses until Lars would accept the idea of the Genovian Prince Consort being allowed to wander around in public without being followed by a large, heavily armed man.

They had several private places hidden around Genovia where they could go and be undisturbed. There were restaurants with private rooms, small cafes with sympathetic owners and discreet clientele, and bars willing to throw out all their other customers if Crown Princess Amelia and Prince Michael wanted to come in for a drink.

She said, "I'd like that."

"Mommy!" Jacky hollered, at the same time as Estelle loudly scolded Chris and Francine called out, "Mia! Michael!" One of the cats screeched, and Mia rushed to the door to do damage control. Her well-pinned tiara stayed in place on her head. Michael took his hat and followed her.

Estelle held the child-size ceremonial sword, Chris was grinning too much, Jacky was glaring at her brother while she pet Josie the overweight Persian cat and got cat hair on her puffy blue dress, and Francine was talking on her mobile in too-rapid French for Mia to be able to easily follow what was going on. Whatever crisis had passed, thank god, and no one was dead or bleeding.

That was Michael's assessment of the situation, too. He said, "Chris, whatever you did, don't do it again, OK? I think we're ready for Mommy's parade."

The palace was in chaos over last-minute preparations for the banquet. Mia didn't like the idea that all the fuss was just over her birthday, but she was the head of state and she shouldn't complain. She did her best to be grateful and undemanding.

The Grimaldis, Renaldos, and one Moscovitz were assembled in the Golden Salon. Of course, they were arguing bitterly over completely unnecessary and insignificant things, as they always did whenever the extended family assembled for any occasion. Today the arguments were over where they were all stand at the parade. There was a raised dais with throne-like chairs for Princess Amelia, Prince Phillipe, and Princess Clarisse. Behind the dais were several rows of seats for the rest of the family, and everyone demanded to be seated prominently in the front row.

The argument paused when Mia entered with her husband and children. A few people remembered to wish her a happy birthday. Most wanted to hear where Michael wanted to sit. He had been reluctantly tolerated by the family at the time of his marriage to Mia, and then he was cautiously approved by the family when he wasn't a disaster as the palace's host. He was liked a little more when Jacky was born, a little more when Chris was born, a little more when he let MTV do a documentary on Genovia's emerging music scene, a little more with every successful album he released, and so on. By the time of Mia's coronation, he was more popular with her relatives than she was.

He could become dramatically less popular now if he claimed the seats that everyone else wanted. Luckily he sensed that, too. "Top row on the aisle. We want the best view of the parade."

"Yeah, because there's acrobats and soldiers in uniforms and elephants and ponies," Chris said, not entirely accurately.

René laughed and said, "I'm sitting with my old friends. Put me on the top to see the elephants." This was the most fabulous news that Chris had heard all day. He cheered and hugged René's legs because he wasn't tall enough to hug the rest of him yet.

"No one said anything about elephants," a Renaldo great-uncle complained. Now everyone wanted to know more about Chris's elephants.

"Aunt Lilly will sit on top, too," Jacky said. "She wants to sit with us." She was already standing by her favorite aunt and hoping to attract Lilly's attention once she stopped arguing with a Grimaldi cousin. Lilly would have fought her way to the first row as a matter of pride, but she was a good aunt and would never disappoint her niece.

"Fine, but I'm not sitting next to René unless the swine promises not to say a word about the physical attributes of any of the women who may appear in the parade."

"You can sit next to me," Jacky said. No one could say no to an adorable little girl who would one day rule a country. Lilly agreed, and then she started telling everyone else where they should sit, because she couldn't allow an argument to continue without having her say.

* * *

There were no elephants at the parade. The buildings along the Rue Principale were decorated with flags, flowers, streamers, and balloons. The pavements and squares were filled with people celebrating the unlikely but beloved country of Genovia. Prince Consort Michael sat between their two kids and answered all their questions about the parade, the spectators, the TV camera crews, and elephants. Crown Princess Amelia sat in the center chair on the royal dais, wearing her tiara and waving at the cheering crowds.

Everything was perfect now, and the future for Mia, Michael, and their family would be even better.

**(THE END THE END THE END THE END!!)**


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